One Foot In Front of the Other
by simplyjazzie09
Summary: Sam left, but he had his reasons. mpreg and wincest.
1. The Most Innocent of Questions

Sam felt the familiar smile brighten his features as he watched his son play in the sandbox. Mikey just loved coming to the small park down the street from their apartment. Sam found his grin growing at the sight of his chubby little four year old's attempt at a sand castle.

If, just a few short years ago, someone had told Sam he would one day be this happy and content again, he would have scoffed in their face. But Sam was happy and he was content. There was only a small piece of his heart that still ached, but on most days he was way too preoccupied with Mikey and work to have any time to think too hard on it.

Noticing the time and feeling the chilled breeze as it ruffled his shaggy brown hair, Sam decided it was time to head home. The last thing he needed was for Mikey to get sick.

"Mikey! Time to head home!"

Mikey looked up and administered a half-hearted pout as he abandoned his creation. Hand in hand, the two Winchesters began their walk home in a comfortable silence. It wasn't until they were stopped at a crosswalk that Mikey's huge hazel eyes stared pleadingly at Sam.

"Daddy, do I have to go to preschool tomorrow?"

Sam frowned at the random question, but kept his tone light. "Of course, you do, silly." They crossed the street and their quaint little apartment building came into view. "What would make you ask that?"

Mikey's head was down and his voice defeated, "Nothing, just wondering."

Sam didn't like the sound of this and was determined to get to the bottom of it. Mikey had always enjoyed preschool. He was such a sweet kid that it had hardly taken him anytime at all to make new friends when he had first started months ago. Come to think of it, everyone liked Mikey, and he tended to like most everyone else, especially those he associated with preschool. Well, it was obvious his son wasn't going to elaborate on the subject at the moment. Sam decided to poke around a bit during dinner.

Later that evening, over meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and salad, Sam was prepared to broach the subject, but his son beat him to it. About halfway through his salad, Mikey set down his fork with a determined set to his chubby jaw.

"Daddy, why don't I have a mommy or another daddy like the other kids at school?"

Needless to say, Sam was completely caught off guard and choked on his iced tea. Mikey frowned in worry as his father coughed and sputtered.

"Daddy? Are you okay? Do you need the High-mo-lick?"

Sam shook his head and managed to compose himself after a few more coughs. He then mulled over Mikey's question before a lightbulb clicked.

As gently as possible, he asked, "Does this have something to do with why you don't want to go to preschool tomorrow?"

Mikey's eyes shot up to meet his and then resumed their intense study of his mashed potatoes. This alerted Sam that he had hit the nail right on the head.

The boy shrugged one small shoulder. "Maryellen Casp asked me today."

There was silence at the table for a moment as Sam sat there at a loss.

"Well", he began, slowly. "Do you think you need another parent?" Sam watched as Mikey's features took on a look of concentration. He was obviously giving this question a lot of thought. Finally, his eyes met his father's brown ones.

"No, you're a good daddy." And with that, his round face split into a grin so familiar it made Sam's heart ache. His little baby, that the preschool teachers were already saying was extremely smart for his age, could still say or do the simplest of things to cause Sam's heart to swell with love. He came around the table and took his son in his arms.

"What do you say we get you in the tub and then off to bed?" Sam said this as he was already leading him down the hall and into the small bathroom. Mikey griped a little but was complient for the most part.

One quick bath and bedtime story for Mikey, and a few clean dishes later, and Sam was finally able to sink into the comfort of his worn sofa. His body had been screaming all day for a rest and he just relished in the pleasure of total relaxation as he aimlessly channel surfed.

It was times like this, when he relaxed and let his mind wander beyond work and Mikey, and just continuing to put one foot in front of the other, that he thought of Dean.

It truly did feel like a lifetime ago. The hunting, the seedy motels, the relationship that had been established. It hadn't lasted long, but while it did, it was so good. Sam remembered the mornings when they just had time on their hands. They would lay in each other's arms, not talking, just enjoying the other's company. Not to say their hadn't been fights. There were, and some of them got pretty nasty or violent. However, for the most part, the good outweighed the bad.

And then, Sam had caught a stomach bug. At least, that's what he thought it was. Yet, after a month of nausea, stomach cramps, headaches, and backaches, Sam became suspicious. He somehow bought a pregnancy test without Dean knowing, and took it while he was out hustling pool. That was when Sam's world came crashing down. Though in the back of his mind, Sam had known the test would be positive, it still came as a bit of a shock. After about an hour of sobbing hysterically on and off, Sam began to think. He had money saved up, quite a bit of money actually. It would be more than enough to get him started. And there was a bus stop right down the road...

Staying with Dean was not an option. Sure, he would settle down and raise a kid, if Sam told him about the baby, but Dean would never be happy. Dean was a hunter. He needed the hunt as much as he needed to eat or breathe, and Sam would not take that from him. In the end, Sam wrote him a long note apologizing and asking him not to look for him, knowing Dean would anyway.

Sam eventually ended up in Hopewell, New Jersey. It was a nice, quiet town and Sam thought it a perfect place to settle down and take care of his baby. He used some of his stash to pay for a minuscule apartment and worked both at a library and a supermarket. Sam mostly kept to himself as much as possible during his pregnancy, yet Dennis Sawyer somehow found his way into Sam's life. He turned out to be Sam's best friend and stuck by him through absolutely everything. It was Dennis that was right by Sam's side when he gave birth to Mikey. And Dennis was the one that had turned him on to the excellent job at the bank, where Sam was slowly working his way to the top.

Michael Dean Winchester had been a blessing to his father from the moment he came into the world. Raising a child was a constant struggle for Sam, but Mikey brought so much joy into his life that he never cared how many hours he had to work to make ends meet or how many times he had to change his vomit soaked clothing. The hardest part was the fact that most everything about Mikey just screamed "Dean's son". From the dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes, to the crooked, carefree grin that so often made an appearance. It was a constant reminder of what Sam had walked away from almost five years ago.

The obnoxiously loud theme song to some cheesy reality TV show startled Sam from his contemplations. Deciding to turn in for the night, Sam went through his nightly routine. That night, Sam's dreams were filled with rock salt, leather, and an old black car.


	2. While He Sits There Confused

_Dean grinned to himself as he drove down the dusty, deserted road on the way to their motel room. He hoped Sam was still asleep. It was always fun to wake the slumbering man with slow, lingering kisses. Dean was grinning wider when he finally pulled into the parking lot of the motel. His thoughts were taking him to places he needed Sam to explore._

_He thought it slightly odd that Sam was out of bed; it was still fairly early. Even more perplexing was the fact that he was not in the bathroom, either. Dean spun around frantically – only his stuff was on the floor by the door. _

_His heart stopped. Sam was gone._

Dean awoke with a start. He blinked the gritty feeling in his eyes away while he lay in bed and tried to get his bearings after that dream. Sam leaving. It plagued him most every night. Over the years, Dean had learned that drinking, until he was no longer sure which way was up, helped immensely. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, it still hurt like hell.

Pushing off the bed, Dean made his way to the tiny bathroom and showered. While rinsing the cheap motel soap from his tanned skin, Dean found himself thinking of Sam again. It had taken him years to realize his feelings for Sam, and even longer for him to realize Sam felt the same for him.

They had been hunting the spirit of some crazy girl that had off-ed herself after her parents disowned her. At some point, she'd thrown Dean against a wall, causing him to lose consciousness. By the time he came to, the girl was gone, and he and Sam were in the Impala on their way back to the motel. It was dark and Sam didn't know he was awake. He was running off at the mouth, mostly just was whispering over and over how much he loved Dean. He said he knew that Dean would never be able to love him that way and it was okay – just as long as he lived. Dean had lived, and the next morning, he and Sam had a long talk. That talk, of course, led to all sorts of lovely lovemaking.

But then, Sam was just gone. It didn't make any sense to Dean at all. There was, of course, Sam's nice little letter to clear up most of the gray areas. Dean dried himself off as the most hurtful part ran though his head.

_I'm so sorry. I really am. But this isn't right. It never has been and it never will be. Please, Dean. Please don't look for me. I don't want to be found._

Dean had read those lines so many times, he was sure he mumbled them in his sleep. They really touched a nerve. The one thing in their whole relationship that he worried about, excluding Sam's death, was that it was hurting Sam or that it was making him unhappy. Sam had always reassured him that he wanted to be with Dean as much as Dean wanted to be with him. Then, the truth comes out that all this time Sam thought what they had was wrong. Needless to say, Dean had been hurt. Now, he was just angry – at the world, mostly.

Surprisingly, the one person that kept Dean afloat during the years had been their father. He and Sam had always kept their relationship a secret from their father. However, after the first few times John called, and Sam just happened to not be around, he got extremely suspicious. Dean was forced to explain why John's youngest son was gone, and he couldn't do that without explaining everything.

John had been pissed, to say the least. There had been plenty of yelling and punches thrown. In the end, he got over it and assured Dean that they were still his sons, and he would love them no matter what. He did reiterate that he did not agree with or condone what they had done, though. John told Dean he thought it best to take Sam's letter at face value and to leave him alone. The two continued their hunting- sometimes as a team, but mostly by themselves.

Dean knew his father worried about him. He knew John was beginning to see how reckless he was becoming in his hunts, the risks he was taking. On one occasion, not too far back, after Dean had gotten himself seriously hurt during a hunt, John had sat him down for a little heart-to-heart. He said that he recognized Dean's behavior; it was exactly the self-destructive crap he'd done after Mary. John had done his best to reassure his eldest son that he was there for him and that he didn't have to act that way, but John wasn't a man of many words. Dean understood where his father was coming from. He'd be lying if he said he didn't see the similarities, but there just wasn't much he could do about it. Much as he hated to admit it, Sam was the one that made a difference. With him gone, Dean was just simply surviving- and hardly doing that.


	3. An Easy Day

I **really **have to thank everyone or their reviews! They really keep me going! And just so you know, I sent Chapter Four over to my beta earlier toda, so it should posted within the next couple days. Thanks again so much for sticking with this! It's my first fanfic ever and it really is my baby!

The shifting of his bed and the excited shouts of his son woke Sam early Saturday morning.

"Daddy! Wake up! Dad!" Sam pried sleep-laden eyes open to peer at his bouncing son. Mikey's blonde locks were sticking up in all directions and his green dinosaur pajamas were rumpled. He was absolutely beaming down at his sleepy father.

Sam grinned at his son and climbed out of bed. "Morning, Mikey. Ready for breakfast?"

Mikey nodded and ran off in the direction of the kitchen while Sam brushed his teeth. Obviously impatient, Mikey had the carton of orange juice out on the table and was tapping his foot as he waited.

That morning, Sam made pancakes while Mikey talked nonstop about the day ahead. For the past few days, Sam and Dennis had been planning a trip to the Riverview Park. It was a cozy little park nestled right beside the Delaware River about thirty minutes away. Mikey was extremely excited about it; he always seemed to be most at ease outdoors.

Sam had just gotten Mikey situated with his clothes when he heard the front door open and shut.

"Sam!" Sam instantly smiled at the sound of Dennis' voice. He watched Dennis pocket his key and grab a few extra pancakes.

"Hey, Dennis. Enjoy your breakfast."

Dennis grinned over at him through a mouthful of pancake. Dennis continued eating, and Sam took the time to study his friend. He was Sam's height with expensively tended shiny black hair that hung nearly to his shoulders. He always managed to look both responsible and fun. His bright blue eyes were always twinkling with some untold inner joke and his mouth quick to smile.

When he was finished eating, Dennis actually cleared the table and went on to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher.

"I knew you were good for something, Dennis. No wonder we've been friends so long."

"Yeah, yeah," Dennis replied good-naturedly.

At that time, Mikey came into the room and Sam had to stifle a laugh at his son's appearance. Mikey was at the age where he was itching for a bit of independence, and he had insisted on dressing himself that morning. His dark blue jeans were slightly twisted and unbuttoned. The blue and green stripped shirt Sam had laid out was on backwards and his little black sneakers were in the wrong foot, laces dangling limply. He was the picture of dejection.

The blonde boy had come trudging out a bit dejectedly, knowing he hadn't done something right. It just didn't feel the same way it did when his dad dressed him. However, his spirits quickly rose when he realized who had arrived.

"Denny!"

"Hey, Mikey D!" Dennis scooped him up. "Seems like you've got a little problem."

Mikey's bottom lip immediately poked out. "Gett'n dress'd is hard."

Dennis smiled. "I know it is," he glanced over at Sam and his plaid pajama bottoms and t-shirt. "Look, even your Dad is having a hard time."

Sam huffed playfully. "Fine. I'll go get pretty if you fix Mikey's clothes."

"Oh, sure thing. Come on, Mikey D."

He hopped in the shower, and then threw on a pair of worn jeans and a brown t-shirt. Upon returning to the living room, Sam found Dennis and Mikey sitting patiently on the sofa, looking for all the world like the picture of innocence. Mikey's clothes were straight, and he now sported one of his favorite baseball caps.

Soon, the three of them were in Sam's SUV and heading towards the Delaware River. Once there, Mikey and Dennis immediately grabbed a Frisbee from the backseat and ran off to play as if they were the same age. Sam laughingly shook his head as he spread out a warn blanket on the lush green grass, and settled in to watch his son and best friend run around.

Sam couldn't help but think of how lucky he was. The man had been a blessing, had befriended him at time when he was feeling most desperate and alone, but never tried to take advantage. He had listened when Sam finally opened up and told him of his past. Sam had told Dennis the reason he was pregnant and alone. And although Sam had confided a lot in Dennis, he never had the heart, or the courage, to tell him who Mikey's father was. It turned out to not matter, anyway. Dennis never pressured Sam for information. Whatever Sam shared, he shared because he wanted to. And Dennis had been a major part of Mikey's life from the beginning. When Sam thought about it, he really was the closest thing Mikey had to a father and they got along beautifully, anyone could see that.

Sam, sick of simply watching, stood and joined in the game of Frisbee. Mikey's Frisbee tossing skills were slightly less than good. More often than not, his passes landed just a few feet away from his small body, causing him to giggle uncontrollably.

The day wore on with them playing in the grass, leisurely strolling along the river and periodically snacking on the picnic lunch Sam had packed. It was an easy day and by the early evening, Mikey was looking tuckered out. Sam and Dennis packed everything up and, on the way to the car, Mikey grabbed hold of Sam and Dennis' hands.

As they pulled away, Sam looked back at his son in his booster seat. He was absolutely knocked out, head lolled to the side, small lips parted. He had dark grass stains on his knees. Sam grinned at the sight, and turned back around to glance over at Dennis as he drove.

Dennis caught his look and his mood. "Someone's feeling nostalgic."

Sam grinned and scoffed. It was true, though. Dean was never far from Sam's mind. His guilt was constantly weighing heavily on his heart. Sam still missed Dean like crazy. And while Sam would always regret never giving Dean and Mikey a chance to meet, he felt as thought he had done what he needed to. He justified his actions with the knowledge that Mikey had never ridden in a car for seventy-two hours straight, or seen the inside of cheap, grimy motel room.

Chapter Four

Inhaling the warm salty air, Dean grinned to himself. There was nothing better than cruising down a coastline in a sexy car with the windows down and a bit of good ole' Zepplin blaring from the speakers. Much as he loved the hunt, Dean loved more the times when he could drive aimlessly; go wherever the wind seemed to be blowing that day. At the moment, Dean was pretty darn sure the wind was blowing in the direction of the beach, may a bikini or two?

Suddenly, "Barbie Girl" by Aqua began playing loudly from the passenger seat. Dean chuckled to himself and didn't even bother to check the caller ID on his phone. There was only one person he had assigned that ring tone to.

"Yo, Padre," Dean said as he flipped open his cell.

"Dean," John's voice came clearly over the line. "I've got a job for you."

Dean rolled his eyes, but said, "Alright, Dad. What have ya?"

"An angry spirit wreaking havoc on the staff of an elementary school."

Dean scoffed. "A simple salt and burn? Dad, seriously."

John huffed out a sound of irritation. "Who else is going to do it, Dean? Just find out how it is, salt and burn the body, and be on your way."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, deciding it was no good to push his father. "So where am I going?"

"Hopewell, New Jersey."

Being that his dad hadn't really given him a lot to go on, Dean began at the library. But there was nothing in any of the local newspapers. Of course, every small town had its urban legends complete with cheesy web pages and all, but there was nothing anyone in their right mind would give a second glance.

He decided to give the librarian a try. He smirked as he glanced over at her. She had long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and legs that went on for days. Her cleavage was a bit distracting as well. Nope, definitely not your average librarian.

Dean gave himself a mental shake as he made his way over to her desk. He was on a case; he had to stay focused. She flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Hey, I'm doing a term paper on current events in the area. I was wondering if you've heard of any strange occurrences recently?"

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a confused frown. "Strange? Like what?"

Dean sighed inwardly. _Okay, so we all can't be smart and good-looking._

"Yeah, strange disturbances. Or, people disappearing," he glances out one of the windows. "Cows disappearing."

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, obviously trying to decided whether he was kidding or not. Saving her from wasting anymore brain cells, he lashed her a classic Dean Winchester smile.

"That's okay, sweetheart. Thanks anyway." With that, he walked out.

Obviously, he was going to have to go straight to the source of the problem. Hopewell Elementary School was like any other small town elementary school Dean had ever seen. It was a small brick building in the center of the town with a small preschool right next door. The walls inside were painted a sickly green color that reminded Dean of his days in school and the halls were empty. He found the spacious main office easily enough. But he left the school frustrated and annoyed. Either the townspeople paid absolutely no attention to what was happening around them, or his father led him to a dead end. Whichever the case, Dean was pissed.

As he made his way to the Impala, Dean noticed a man and a young boy exiting the preschool. The man was tall with jet black hair and expensive clothing. The boy was small and chubby with blonde hair. Dean found himself oddly mesmerized by the duo and he watched them as they approached. He tried to look inconspicuous while he listened to the little boy talk relate a something animatedly.

"And I said to her 'I don't care what you think' and she called me weird so I threw her cookie in the sand."

Dean smiled as he listened. He sounded proud, yet at the same time felt the need to defend himself. Dean glanced up to find them unlocking the doors of the car right next to his.

"Cute kid." He slapped on the most disarming smile he could manage. "Your son?"

The man smiled down at him as he let the boy into the car and proceed to buckle him in. The blonde kid offered him a wide grin through the open window.

"Thanks. And no, he's my friend, Sam's."

Dean sat there staring at the spot where the little boy had sat long after the silver car had pulled away. _Sam._ It made sense now why Dean would be drawn to a randomly little kid in the parking lot of a random school in an equally random town. He reminded Dean so much of Sam at that age. From the round cheeks to the defiant way he explained his side of the cookie-sand incident. It was all just so…Sam.

But, no, it didn't make sense at all. Sam was…God knows where doing…God knows what. He was not in barely-there Hopewell, New Jersey. He just wasn't and he definitely did not have a son!

That was what Dean kept telling himself the entire time he sped back to the library, snatched one of their phonebooks and flipped to the Ws.

Yet there it was: Winchester, Samuel…72 Oak Ave Apt. B-9…(876) 493-0746.

Hopewell Elementary School was like any other small town elementary school Dean had ever seen. It was a small brick building in the center of the town with a small preschool right next door. The walls inside were painted a sickly green color that reminded Dean of his days in school and the halls were empty. He found the spacious main office easily enough.

Dean fabricated a story of his house hunting in the area and his search of a good school for his son. This had the young blonde woman at the front desk, whose name tag read Angie, gushing about what a fabulous school Hopewell Elementary was. She gave him the perfect opportunity to express concerns about some rumors he had heard about the school being haunted.


	4. The Unforseen Hunt

Chapter Four

Inhaling the warm salty air, Dean grinned to himself. There was nothing better than cruising down a coastline in a sexy car with the windows down and good ole' Zeppelin blaring from the speakers. Much as he loved the hunt, Dean loved more the times when he could drive aimlessly; go wherever the wind seemed to be blowing that day. At the moment, he was pretty darn sure the wind was blowing in the direction of the beach, maybe a bikini or two?

Suddenly, "Barbie Girl" by Aqua began playing loudly from the passenger seat. Dean chuckled to himself and didn't even bother to check the caller ID on his phone. There was only one person he had assigned that ringtone to.

"Yo, Padre," he said as he flipped open his cell.

"Dean," John's voice came clearly over the line. "I've got a job for you."

Dean rolled his eyes, but said, "Alright, Dad. What have ya got?"

"An angry spirit wreaking havoc on the staff of an elementary school."

Dean scoffed. "A simple salt and burn? Dad, seriously."

John huffed out a sound of irritation. "Who else is going to do it, Dean? Just find out who it is, salt and burn the body, and be on your way."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, deciding it wasn't a good idea to push his father. "So where am I going?"

"Hopewell, New Jersey."

Being that his dad hadn't really given him a lot to go on, Dean began at the library. But there was nothing in any of the local newspapers. Of course, every small town had its urban legends, complete with cheesy web pages, but there was nothing worth a second glance.

He decided to give the librarian a try. He smirked as he glanced over at her. She had long brown hair, bright blue eyes and legs that went on for days. And, her cleavage was a bit distracting. Nope, he decided, definitely not your average librarian.

Dean mentally shook himself as he made his way over to her desk. He was on a case, had to stay focused. She flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Hey, I'm doing a term paper on current events in the area. I was wondering if you've heard of any strange occurrences recently."

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a confused frown. "Strange? Like what?"

Dean sighed inwardly. _Okay, so we all can't be smart and good-looking._

"Yeah, strange disturbances. Or, people disappearing?" He glanced out one of the windows. "Cow mutilations."

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, obviously trying to decide whether he was kidding or not. Saving her from wasting anymore brain cells, he flashed a classic Dean Winchester smile.

"That's okay, sweetheart. Thanks anyway." With that, he walked out.

Obviously, he was going to have to go straight to the source of the problem. Hopewell Elementary School was like any other small town elementary school Dean had ever seen. It was a small brick building in the center of the town with a small preschool right next door. The walls inside were painted a sickly green color that reminded Dean of his days in school and the halls were empty. He found the spacious main office easily enough. But he left the school frustrated and annoyed. Either the townspeople paid absolutely no attention to what was happening around them, or his father led him to a dead end. Whichever the case, Dean was pissed.

As he made his way to the Impala, Dean noticed a man and a young boy exiting the preschool. The man was tall with jet black hair and expensive clothing. The boy was small and chubby with blonde hair. Dean found himself oddly mesmerized by the duo and he watched them as they approached. He tried to look inconspicuous while he listened to the little boy talk animatedly.

"And I said to her 'I don't care what you think' and she called me weird so I threw her cookie in the sand."

Dean smiled as he listened. He sounded proud, yet at the same time felt the need to defend himself. Dean glanced up to find them unlocking the doors of the car right next to his.

"Cute kid." He slapped on the most disarming smile he could manage. "Your son?"

The man smiled down at him as he let the boy into the car and proceed to buckle him in. The blonde kid offered him a wide grin through the open window.

"Thanks. And no, he's my friend, Sam's."

Dean sat there staring at the spot where the little boy had sat long after the silver car had pulled away. _Sam._ It made sense why Dean would be drawn to a randomly little kid in the parking lot of a random school in an equally random town. He reminded Dean so much of Sam at that age. From the round cheeks to the defiant way he explained his side of the cookie-sand incident. It was all just so…Sam.

But, no, it didn't make sense at all. Sam was…God knows where doing…God knows what. He was not in barely-there Hopewell, New Jersey. He just wasn't and he definitely did not have a son!

That was what Dean kept telling himself the entire time he sped back to the library, snatched one of their phonebooks and flipped to the Ws.

Yet there it was: Winchester, Samuel…72 Oak Ave Apt. B-9…(876) 493-0746.


	5. Not Ashamed, Who's to Blame

**Okay, so I'm possibly more nervouse about this chapter than I have been about any of the others so far. Feedback is soo needed!**

"But I don't want to say sorry!" Mikey's dark blonde eyebrows came together in a frown.

Sam almost melted at the poked out bottom lip but was determined to stand firm in this. "Mikey, there was no reason for you to throw Suzie's cookie and tomorrow you are going to say you're sorry."

"But Dad, she-"

"I know what she said, Mikey, but there are other ways to handle it."

Mikey stamped his foot and then stomped all the way into his room making as much noise as physically possible.

Sam let out a huge sigh and felt his tired body sag against the kitchen counter as he glanced over at Dennis, who had been standing off to the side quietly watching the exchange.

"You don't think I was too hard on him, do you?"

Dennis raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, not my place." Sam nodded. "It is, however, my place to say that you look beat. Go take a seat and I'll clean up."

So Sam sank into one of the hard chairs at the kitchen table and watched Dennis clean the dinner dishes. He truly was lucky to have someone like Dennis in his life. And as his eyes traveled up and down Dennis's body, Sam found it hard to believe Dennis was still single. Come to think of it, in the years Sam had known him, Dennis had maybe dated about three people, a mixed variety of male and female, and none of them seriously. He spent most of his time with Sam and Mikey.

He felt a sharp stab of guilt. Sam knew Dennis loved Mikey and thoroughly enjoyed the time he spent with the Winchester men, but was Sam taking advantage of him? It was definitely possible. He never turned Dennis down when he offered to come over. He never encouraged him to go out and meet someone special. In all actuality, Sam pretty much stayed out of Dennis's sex life. For all he knew, Dennis could be doing the nasty every night.

Sam grimaced. Really, what kind of friend was he? "Den, I-"

He was cut off by the chiming of the doorbell and Dennis was off to answer it before Sam could even react.

Sam was surprised by the arrival. He really couldn't imagine who it could be. There weren't that many came to the apartment. Even the few friends he had managed to make at work, Sam kept at arm's length.

Stepping into the living room, Sam felt his world tilt and blacken around the edges and would have fallen if Dennis hadn't grabbed his arm until he could regain his footing. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and took a moment to regroup because he was obviously seeing things. There was absolutely no way this was possible. Opening his eyes, Sam felt his breath hitch. Standing there, right in his living room, was the person he'd wished for for countless nights- and his worst nightmare.

Sam felt his heart skip a beat and then proceed at a rate he was sure was just unnatural. This was bad-really, really bad. He wasn't prepared for this. This was not going to be pretty. And Mikey was right down the hall. Sam's eyes snapped in that direction and then flew back to Dean's face. If Dean even found out…

Sam forced himself to calm down (as if that were actually possible) and assess the situation. Dean stood there looking much as he had the last time Sam saw him. There were just a few subtle differences. His body was slightly more bulky with heavy muscle, rigid with tension. And his face- it was harder, marred with a few more fading scars. His eyes were fixed upon Sam, boring into him

"Dean?" Sam knew he sounded small and weak and cursed himself for it. If even there was a time he needed to be strong, it was now.

"So," Dennis interjected. "I take it you two know each other." Though, he quieted down at the lethal glare Dean sent him.

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

Dean's eyebrows rose. "What am I doing here? What the hell do you think I'm doing here?" Sam flinched at the way Dean's voice rose to a loud bellow so quickly, but Dean continued with his rant before Sam could ask him to quiet down. The last thing he needed was for Mikey to come out here and see this.

"You randomly disappear for five years and then I get a call from Dad basically leading me to you!"

It took Sam's muddled brain a little while to actually realize what Dean said.

"Wait, Dean knows where I am?"

Dean smirked humorlessly. "Sure does. He sent me here hoping I'd find you, unbeknownst to me, of course. But the most pressing question is what you are doing here."

Sam swallowed and felt more than saw Dennis take a step closer to him. Dean's eyes snapped to him and Sam was shaken by the dangerous flash he saw in those green orbs.

"Dean, this isn't the time-"

"Then when is the time," was Dean's thunderous reply.

That was when Sam heard the small, frightened cry from the hallway. Glancing over, Sam found Mikey standing there in his crumpled pajamas, eyes huge and alarmed with tears streaming down his face. The other men in the room noticed him at the same time. Dennis motioned for Sam to stay put and handle his business while he ushered Mikey back to his room. For Dean, Mikey's presence only seemed to spur his anger.

He turned back to Sam. "And you've got a son?" It was a low, menacing growl and more of a statement than anything else.

"Yes," Sam replied, refusing to be shamed of his baby.

"Who's the father, Sam?" He was now right up in Sam's face. "Do you even know?"

Sam clenched his jaw but refused to take the bait. He reasoned with himself that Dean had every right to be pissed, and he didn't even know the other half of Sam's secret.

The next thing Sam knew, the shorter man had him slammed against the wall, faces only a few inches apart as he shouted, "Is this why you left me? So you could spread your legs for the first dirty bum that came? Who'd you whore yourself to, Sam? Who?" He emphasized the last question with a rattling shake of Sam's shoulders.

It was at that moment that Dennis intervened. He grabbed Dean's shoulder and spun him around. "Hey, man. You are way out of line."

Sam managed to catch Dean's fist before it actually connected with Dennis's face. No matter how many years he'd been separated from Dean, he could still see that would not have ended well. Sam really wanted to tell Dennis to just leave it alone-that he could handle this.

Spurred by Dean's offensive questions, Sam stepped in front of Dean and got right back in his face. "You want to know who I whored myself to, Dean? You want to know who I spread my legs for? It was you! You're my son's father!"

Sam didn't bother to notice the stun evident on Dean's face or the way his mouth opened and closed without sound as he shoved his shell-shocked brother towards the door.

"Now, get out!"

Surprisingly, Dean didn't fight it and Sam slammed the door right in his face before completely crumpling to the floor. His back rested against the door and his head on his knee. Sam didn't even bother to glance up at the strong arms that encircled his shoulders and rocked him through his shuttering sobs.

**Feedback is needed! What do you think should happen next? **


	6. Tail Between His Legs

**Hey Everyone! I'd really like to take this time to thank everyone for their reviews and support! It really does mean so much to me!**

**So, I sent this chap. off to my beta about a week ago, and although I haven't gotten it back yet, I just couldn't wait to post it. I've looked over it myself a few times, but if she sends it back and there's something major i need to change, I'll just repost it!  
_Enjoy!_**

Dean took a deep breath as he stood in front of the solid brown door and tried not to think of the last time he was there. It hadn't gone well, to say the least. He'd used a horrible tactic; bursting in, guns blazing, so to speak, accusations flying, anger unchecked. He hadn't been able to help it. All that he could think of was the fact that Sam was there…and so was his son. Their son. He had to keep correcting himself. He had a son, now. That little boy with the round cheeks, green eyes, and blonde hair was his. And Sam had kept him away.

Pushing those thoughts away, Dean rechecked the silver B-9 in the center of the door and pressed the doorbell. It was still early, not even eight yet, but Dean was fairly sure Sam would be awake…he hoped.

When the door opened, Dean was met by red eyes and a pale face that told him Sam hadn't been sleeping well.

"Sam."

Sam's eyes narrowed and Dean watched his jaw clench. His grip on the door frame tightened. "What, Dean?"

"Sam, we need to talk, okay." Dean tried his best disarming expression and tone.

The taller man's features darkened. "Oh, so now you want to talk, or do you still want to slam me against a wall."

Dean ignored all of the crude remarks he could come up with in response to that and threw his hands up in surrender. "Just talking."

Sam contemplated this for what seemed like forever as he studied Dean, gauging his sincerity. Finally, he gave a small nod and stepped aside.

Dean strode into the comfortably lived-in living room with its worn sofa and chairs and scuffed wooden coffee table. Sam offered him coffee before disappearing into a bright and airy eat-in kitchen separated from the living room by a large wooden bar and two stools. Sam reemerged with two mugs and Dean couldn't help but notice the sloppy red paint that spelled out Daddy on the one Sam was sipping from. Dean sat on the sofa and sipped at the strong black brew, glad Sam hadn't forgotten how he liked it while Sam hunched himself as far away as possible on the other side of the sofa.

Sam shot a quick glance in the direction of a hallway Dean was sure led to the bedrooms. "We can talk, but you better keep it down."

Dean knew what he was saying. He didn't want their son to know he was there.

"What's his name, Sam?"

Sam blinked a few times, seemingly caught off guard. "Michael." He swallowed and looked anywhere but into Dean's eyes. "Michael Dean Winchester. Mikey for short."

Dean sucked in air slowly, hoping to ease the pressure in his chest. "Dean, huh," He could feel a small smile ghosting. Satisfaction flowed freely through his veins. His son. Michael Dean Winchester. He liked it. Most of all, he liked the four letters that were all him. But, the name of his child wasn't all he was there for.

"Sam, you know I'm going to ask why." Dean worked hard on keeping his tone neutral.

Sam looked up into his eyes and Dean saw his struggle. He sighed and seemed to gather his thoughts.

"Dean, you've hunted all your life and I know it's something you need to do. I couldn't ask you to give all that up to raise a family."

"Don't you think that's a choice I should have been able to make on my own?"

"What would you have chosen?"

Forgetting that he was supposed to be controlling himself and keeping quiet, Dean could feel his anger rising along with his voice. "Oh come on! You honestly think I wouldn't have chosen you…and our baby?"

Sam was silent for a moment. "We'll never know, I guess."

Much as it angered him, Sam was right. They would never know. Dean would like to think he would have stood beside Sam and taken care of their baby, but he really just didn't know."

"You're right. There's no way of knowing." Dean sat up a little straighter. "Sam, I want you to tell me about it, all of it" Dean held his breath, unsure of whether he was ready to hear this, but he had to know.

"I don't know…at first I just thought I had the flu or something when I first got sick. But, then it didn't go away and I just started getting worse. Nauseous all the time, dizzy, headaches. Then, I bought a test and it was positive. I just-I freaked, Dean. I was so sure you were going to leave me. So I got on a bus."

"So you left me first?" Dean couldn't help the interjection or the sarcasm that managed to soak through.

Sam shot him a withering glance but continued. "Somehow, I ended up here and used some cash I had saved up to get an apartment. I took some easy jobs around the town because I got tired really easily. And then I met Dennis and he's helped me out a lot."

Dean gritted his teeth so hard it hurt and tried to act as if he didn't notice Sam's small smile. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Dennis was that goofball from the other night. Dean really wished Sam had let him punch the guy right in the nose. He could feel himself getting pissed off again. He needed to change the subject. The last thing Dean wanted was for Sam to kick him out again.

"Tell me about when Mikey was born." He must have sounded more eager and forceful than he meant to because Sam's eyes flickered up to his. He smiled at the memory and Dean cursed the way it got harder to breathe with Sam did that.

"I was at work when I first started having pains, but they really weren't all that painful so I ignored them. But as soon as I got home, my water broke and suddenly it was just like I couldn't stand it hurt so badly. I called Dennis and he took me to the hospital. By that time it was pretty much time to push. It seemed like forever but the doctor said it was only a couple of hours. Dennis said Mikey came out screaming. I don't really remember, I was pretty out of it at the point."

Dean saw red and took several deep breathes to calm himself. But no matter how calm he was, he could get the image of Dennis in a hospital with Sam while he gave birth. Dennis was one of the first people to see his son and that pissed Dean off to no end. Not only was he there for Mikey's birth, but Dennis had been there for all the other milestones- potty training, first word, and first step. Dean had missed it all, but he was not going to miss anything else.

"Sam," He waited until he Sam's full attention. "I want to get to know Mikey. I've already missed too much."

Sam looked as though he had been dreading this moment. "Dean, I really don't think that's such a good idea."

Dean had been sucker punched in the stomach, he was sure. "What are you talking about; I'm his father?"

"This was one of the reasons I left in the first place. You can't be in his like for one minute and then be off getting torn apart by werewolves the next. Mikey needs stability." Sam stood and headed for the kitchen.

Dean followed. He grabbed Sam's arm when he kept bustling around the kitchen, refusing to face his brother. "I'm here now, Sam."

"But for how long," was his quiet reply.

Dean sighed and released his grip. He glanced out of the window and down at the small busy street below. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Sam. The fact that you left and kept all this from me- kept Mikey from me- it hurts. But I still love you, and I want to get to know my son."

Sam shook his head sadly. "That's why I wrote you that I didn't want to be found. I knew how complicated this could get."

"Since when is anything in our lives _not_ complicated?" He stepped a bit closer. "But Sam, that stuff in your letter about us being wrong, that was a lie, right?" Sam seemed to have found something very interesting about the linoleum floor. Dean was strangely encouraged by his silence. He gently tilted the other man's face so that their eyes met. "I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you don't still love me, Sammy."

The use of the nickname was not lost on either of them and Sam visibly flinched.

"Dean, I think you should go."

Dean wanted to protest. It was right on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't want to push Sam too hard- not yet at least.

"Alright, okay." At the door, he turned. "But I'll be back, Sam." He made sure it was clear he wasn't giving up.

Dean was surprised by Sam's small crooked grin. "Yeah, figured you might."

**Thanks for reading! Please review whether it be positive or negative!**


	7. Won Over

**So! Here's chapter 7!  
THANK YOU SO MUCH! To everyone who has stuck with this and reviewed and whatnot! You guys keep me going! I look forward to writing more for yall! Enjoy!**

In the week that passed since Dean and Sam talked at his apartment, Dean hadn't heard from him. He was giving Sam the time and space he needed to think. He didn't plan to stay away too much longer, though – the more time Sam had to himself, the more time that huge brain of his had to come up with reasons why things wouldn't work with them.

Honestly, Dean really didn't have anything better to do besides pester Sam. Hopewell, New Jersey was not, by any means, a party central. It was filled with tree-lined roads, a restored downtown, grassy parks, and isolated farmlands on the outskirts. Dean, stuck in his claustrophobia-inducing motel room, was climbing the walls by the time Saturday morning rolled around.

Fresh out of the shower, squeaky clean and still dripping, Dean dashed out of the bathroom when he heard the muffled tune, "Carry On My Wayward Son" coming from his duffel bag. Rummaging through, he cursed his inability to put his phone in an easily accessible place. Finally spotting it, he flipped it open, not even bothering to check the ID.

"Sam?"

"Uh, hey Dean."

"Hi, Sam."

Dean waited patiently through the awkward silence that followed. Sam had called for a reason and Dean was definitely up for whatever it may be.

"Um, Dean…I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."

Dean hummed his agreement.

"Well, I, uh, I need to do some extra work at the office and Dennis is out of town and so I was wondering if you couldsortawatchMikey."

Dean's eyebrows rose. That was definitely not what he had been expecting. A pleasant surprise, though.

Dean was great with kids, so he told himself. But this was different. This was his son. Something warm and unnamed filled him as he smiled.

Sam misunderstood his silence. "Look, I know things are bad between us-"

"No, no," Dean interrupted him before he could second-guess his decision to call. "I'd love to. What time do you need me?"

"Well, now, if it's not too much trouble."

Dean's heart began to pound. "Be there in ten."

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Sam dressed hurriedly while Mikey sat on the edge of his bed, swinging his feet back and forth and watching his father. For the millionth time that morning, Sam wished he could go back in time and not make that phone call. But then the practical father in him stepped in and reminded him he didn't have a choice. There was no one else he could call to take care of Mikey while he worked. That was one of the downfalls to only having one close friend. And honestly, Dean was excellent with children; Sam had seen that for himself on countless occasions during a hunt. And Dean _was_, after all, Mikey's father.

"Is Denny comin' over to watch me?" Mikey's voice cut into Sam's thoughts.

Sam squatted down in front of him. "No, actually-"

The doorbell cut him off. He grabbed Mikey's hand and they both went to answer. Sam took a deep breath. Dean was smiling on the other side and it took Sam a moment to steady his breathing and tentatively offer a small smile in return.

When Dean was inside, Sam turned to Mikey to make the introductions. "Mikey, this is-well, this is…this is your, uh," he floundered pitifully until Dean stepped forward bent down to offer Mikey his hand and a smile.

"I'm Dean."

Mikey glared at him, hard. Nowhere was even a trace of the sweet, charming smile Sam was accustomed to. He wasn't even sure where Mikey had learned a look like that; it was disheartening on a face so small.

Sam caught his eye. "Mikey, I've known Dean for a long time and you're going to have fun with him, okay?"

"Sure are," Dean interjected, just for good measure.

Mikey turned to his father with doe-eyed innocence. "Daddy, can I have some 'sed wheats'?"

Sam smiled wide. Whatever his problem with Dean was, Mikey seemed to have gotten over it quickly enough. "Sure."

The threesome moved into the kitchen. Mikey hopped up into his chair and Sam went to fixing his bowl of cereal while Dean leaned his back against the doorway, watching. Once the boy had been situated, Sam prepared to say goodbye.

"I have to go to work now, and Dean's going to watch you. Be good and have fun. I love you." He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Mikey's silky locks. Mikey offered him a toothy grin before spooning up some of the soggy cereal.

Sam turned to address Dean. "Thanks for doing this. Listen, he likes to watch the really old Bill Nye shows, draw and do his puzzles. If anything happens, call my cell- I'll have it on. And of course, you know 9-1-1."

He bit his lip, glancing back at Mikey and then eyeing Dean dubiously.

Dean smirked. "Come on, Sam. You know I can do this. I_ want_ to do this." That said, he unceremoniously ushered Sam to the door.

Sam hesitated just a moment more and his eyes met Dean's. Surprised by the current of emotion he found flowing between them, Sam grabbed his coat and left with one last murmured "Thanks".

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Once Sam left, Dean found Mikey exactly where the left him, enjoying his mushy Honey Nut Shredded Wheat.

"So, Mikey, what do you want to do when you're done eating?" Dean watched the glare return as quickly as it had disappeared when he was talking to Sam.

"'Michwowl', to you."

_It's Sam._

Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. This truly was Sam's child.

"Okay, Michael, what do you want to do?"

Mikey chewed the last bit of his cereal before hopping down to stand in front of Dean with his tiny hands on his hips. "Nothing with you."

Dean frowned a little. Sure, he was technically a stranger, but that didn't warrant this hostility.

"Well, why not?" Dean asked, slightly offended.

Mikey crossed his arms in a way Dean was sure he'd learned from Sam, who had learned it from Dean, who had seen John do it countless times. "You yelled at my Daddy."

It took Dean longer than it should to realize what he meant. That night, Dean _had_ yelled at Sam…and thrown him against a wall – and accused him of some horrible things. He'd forgotten that poor Mikey had witnessed some of that. He probably thought Dean a bad person to come barreling into their lives, yelling at his Daddy, and then trying to make friends.

Dean hunkered down to Mikey's level and looked him in the eye. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at your Daddy. But there's-" He decided to take a detour around saying there was a lot Mikey didn't understand. He seemed to distinctly remember kids didn't appreciate that too much. "I love your Daddy and I won't hurt him."

Mikey eyed him suspiciously. "Promise?"

Dean nodded solemnly.

Mikey bit his lip and looked straight into Dean's eyes. It was a bit unnerving to be scrutinized by a child. But he must have passed the test because Mikey gave him an uncertain look which was identical to Sam's from earlier before shrugging.

"Okay."

Dean smiled in relief. "What do you say we watch some Bill Nye?"

Mikey perked right up. Dean had never much been a fan of Bill Nye. He hadn't understood the hooplah when Sam had ogled over the overly-excited scientist as a kid and he still didn't. But as Mikey chanted along with the theme song, "Bill-Bill-Bill", and rocked happily from side to side in time with the music, Dean figured he could deal. And when Mikey tossed a grin and a giggle over his shoulder in his direction, Dean was pretty sure his heart was going to burst.

Dean knew he had won Mikey over when they had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch and Mikey exclaimed that it was his favorite. He talked Dean's ear off about school, and his friends, and managed to get more of the sandwich on his face than in his mouth. Sam called a little while after that to check on things. He talked to Mikey and Dean assured him everything was fine before Sam had to rush off when someone called for him.

He and Mikey spent the rest of the day quietly drawing pictures of various different things around the house and completing one of Mikey's nature puzzles.

They were working on one of the more difficult ones when Dean glanced up to find Mikey frowning, tongue out and to the side in concentration as he tried to shove two pieces together that obviously weren't going to fit.

"I don't think those are going to work, Michael."

Mikey looked up in surprise, evidently unused to being called by his full name. He cocked his head to the side, still clutching his puzzle pieces. "You can say Mikey now."

Dean's smile was slow and wide. "Thank you." He handed over the adjoining parts to Mikey's two pieces.

They were watching one of Mikey's favorite shows on the couch in the living room when Mikey's head began to droop a little. More than halfway asleep already, he snuggled into Dean's side and promptly fell asleep.

Dean felt something deep in his chest tug painfully. He wished for the hundredth time that day that things had been different. This wasn't going to be easy – coming into Mikey's life, trying to lay some claim. He wished Sam had trusted him more – that he hadn't walked away and taken with him Dean's shot at a family. Admittedly, a family was something he had thought he would never want. But now that he had one – now that there was a tiny body trustingly pressed against his, Dean was determined to somehow make this work.

When Sam got home, Mikey was just waking up, and Dean was sneering at the actors on "Days of Our Lives." He offered a soft, tired smile at Mikey and Dean before plopping down onto the other end of the couch.

"So, everything go okay?"

Dean nodded. "Everything went great."

"Daddy!" Mikey, finally having shaken off the last clutches of sleep, climbed into his dad's lap. "I missed you."

Sam smiled. "You did? Did you have a good time?"

Mikey nodded emphatically. "We watched Bill and De showed me how to draw a car."

Dean chuckled. Throughout the day, Mikey had been having some trouble actually getting 'Dean' out. Somewhere along the line, he had decided to stick with De.

Mikey rattled on about several other parts of their day and Dean watched as Sam's eyes glazed over a little, clearly exhausted.

"Hey, Mikey, why don't you go work on some of those cars I showed you?" With that, the little boy eagerly scurried off to his room.

Dean took in Sam's slumped form, face pinched, eyes screwed shut. Obviously a headache.

"Work was tough today, huh?" Dean wanted nothing more than to work out the kinks and tension evident in Sam's neck and shoulders. He knew that wouldn't be received too well so he busied himself with finding some Tylenol when Sam gave a weak nod.

He gratefully accepted the pills and glass of water before focusing on Dean. 'So, what'd you two do today?"

Dean shrugged. "Watched some Bill Nye, drew some pictures. Oh, and I made my famous Dean Winchester PB&J."

"You mean my sustenance for the better half of my life." He offered a grin along with it.

"Yeah, maybe. But I'll tell you something, that Bill Nye character is one creepy dude." Dean cringed.

Sam snorted. "I-"

Their eyes met and Dean's heart skipped a beat. They were leaning forward, smiling into each other, tension nonexistent for the first time in a long time. Sam's eyes were bright, his dimples deep and prominent and all Dean really wanted to do was…

"Look, De, look!" And just like that, the moment ended as Mikey came scuttling back into the room. He waved a blue piece of construction paper at Dean. Upon further inspection, Dean could see a black car drawn in crayon, beside which was drawn a stick figure he assumed to be himself. A smaller one was standing close beside him. "When you were at my school."

Dean smiled and gave an evil little chuckle on the inside and wondered what it meant that Dennis was featured nowhere in the drawing but had been at the school that day. "It's great, Mikey. Can I have it?"

Mikey beamed up at him and nodded.

"Thanks." He stooped down. "Well, buddy. It's time for me to head out, but thanks for the great time today."

Mikey did the Sam pout. "Are you coming back?"

"Of course, I am." He ruffled a bit of the blonde mop and straightened up.

When Dean reached the door, Sam stopped him with a light hand on his arm. Before Dean could enjoy the touch, Sam snatched his hand away as if burned by the contact.

"Uh," He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Dean. I really appreciate it."

Dean grinned. "Anytime, Sammy."

**Reviews make me happy!**


	8. Through the Haze

**NOTE: This chapter is unbeta'd. I promise, I tried, lol. I sent it off on like Tues, but I didn't get it back yet and I just couldn't wait anymore. I'm dying to post it! I read over it a few times, but I can hardly ever catch my own mistakes! Please forgive me for them! ( **

**NOTE2: A lot of people have ben inquiring about John. I'd really love you bring him into the plot. But I haven't been able to come up with any good ways to. And I have no idea how Mikey should react to him. So, any ideas anyone? Suggestions? Just drop a line on PM or in a review or whatever. I'm so open for suggestions! Kthanx!**

**So here's chapter 8! Hope you enjoy!**

"So I pretty much thought Dad had sent me on a wild goose chase before I saw Mikey and that Dennis guy said he was yours."

Sam listened intently while Dean told of how he had managed to find him.

It was Sam's lunch break and they were sitting at the outdoor tables of the ice cream parlor down the road from the legal offices where Sam worked. Dean had called earlier in the day and charmed him into coming out on his break. Sam was surprised by the fact that he was having such a good time. Mostly, he had just forgotten how amusing it was to watch Dean eat ice cream. He was worse than Mikey.

Sam had to pry his eyes away from the chocolate syrup smeared in the corner of Dean's mouth to follow the conversation.

"Does Dad know about Mikey?"

Dean shrugged and licked at some of his melting ice cream. "I don't know. He's on some hunt in Arkansas and I haven't talked to him. I just wonder how he found you in the first place." He glanced around at the old-fashioned downtown. "I mean, who would have thought you'd hide out here, ya know?"

Sam kept his eyes focused on his lap. "I wasn't hiding, Dean."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Yeah, you were. You were hiding from me." He looked as though he instantly regretted it. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Sam met Dean's eyes and then stared distantly down the road. In the chain of identical two-story buildings, he could just barely make out the old bookstore he frequented on his usual lunch hours. He sighed.

"No, Dean, it's okay-"

Dean held up a hand to silence him. "It isn't okay because we aren't having this conversation right now. This is a happy outing. See- we have ice cream." He gestured with his stub of a cone which was all that was left of the once heaping sundae. Dean stood and threw their used, sticky napkins in the trash bin.

"Now, come on. Your break is almost over."

Sam stood but made no move to leave.

"Dean, we can't just skirt around the issue. We ha-"

Dean's full lips pressed firmly against his swallowed whatever he was going to say. Sam was aware of Dean's hand at the nape of his neck, holding him in place and when he nipped softly at Sam's bottom lip, begging entrance, Sam opened for him. Dean tasted like chocolate and cream and a sweet, unidentifiable flavor that was all him. Sam reveled in the familiarity of it. It was a short and sweet sort of kiss, not at all like the long, languid ones they used to share, but pleasant nonetheless. And the heat of Dean's mouth pressed against his brought back all sorts of memories that had Sam's mind reeling when Dean broke the kiss.

He stared wide-eyed at him and felt himself blush when he noticed that the syrup in the corner of Dean's mouth had been completely licked away. Dean smiled tentatively and then began walking in the direction of the Sam's building. Sam had to jog to keep up-dodging milling pedestrians on the sidewalk.

Dean had just kissed him. Just…kissed him- in spite of everything.

"Dean, you just-"

"I know, Sammy." Dean kept walking at his break-neck pace.

Since it was the easiest thing to handle at the moment, Sam latched onto that.

"It's Sam." He had meant for the retort to sound snappish and sharp, but it came out spacey and confused and Dean grinned.

Why had Dean kissed him? Why did he enjoy it? And why could he still feel the warm pressure of Dean's lips against his?

They couldn't get back to the office fast enough. During the walk, Dean's hand would casually brush against Sam's, sending electric sparks up his arm and causing him to start from the sensation.

Dean silently walked him through the small empty lobby where Sam's desk was tucked into a corner, conveniently out of the way. Sam's boss, Joshua Taylor, was just placing a thick manila folder on his desk, when they walked in.

Joshua Taylor was a short man of a swarthy build. He had dark features with small brown eyes dwarfed by dark thick eyebrows. In the two years Sam had worked for him, he'd come to respect Taylor not only as a lawyer and a friend. Because of his no nonsense attitude at the office and his ability to dominate a courtroom, Taylor was considered the best in the county.

He offered Sam a wide smile when he spotted him. "Winchester, I need you to type these notes up for me and get them back ASAP. Our new client is really…" Suddenly, he trailed off and frowned.

Sam glanced over his shoulder to follow Taylor's gaze in the direction of the front door. In was walking a tall man with thinning, stringy brown hair, and dull brown eyes. His rail thin build was hidden under a stained oversized jacket. It would appear that he was staring intently at Sam, but Sam could see that he was actually gazing just over his shoulder at Josh Taylor. Dean stepped closer to him and squinted at the man in assessment.

The man stepped closer to them and Sam noticed his eyes were glazed over as he sneered in the general direction of their group of three.

"Remember me, Mr. Taylor?" His voice was low and gravelly. That and his yellowed teeth told Sam he had been smoking for decades. "You ruined my life, Taylor, and now I'm gonna ruin yours."

"Wha?-" Taylor began.

Seemingly out of thin air, the man now brandished a gun. Sam blinked at the shining silver and realized it was pointed directly at him. The guy obviously didn't realize he would be a rather large road block in the bullet's path to Taylor. He froze and stared into the barrel with unblinking eyes.

How had the day come to this? When did his warm, sun-kissed noon exertion with Dean turn into the day he stared down a gun at work? This couldn't be happening; Mikey needed him? He couldn't die at work!

He felt Dean give a slightest shift beside him, and that reminder of his presence was enough to help Sam take deep breaths to tame the hysteria threatening to bubble up through the surface. Without having to look, Sam knew Dean's body was poised- muscles tense, back hunched. Dean has a plan.

Sam felt a hard shove from his right about the same time he heard the ear-bursting crack of the gun being fired. He jerked at the sound as he fell sideways, his forehead slamming into one of the sharp edges of his desk. Sam heard a low, familiar grunt before everything faded to black.

oOo

Sam awoke to a paramedic shining a penlight into his eyes. He squinted against that and the pounding in his head.

"Mr. Winchester," the paramedic questioned and he nodded.

Sam sat up slowly and ignored the rolling in the stomach and the paramedic when she informed him he would be fine. He already knew that.

"I-I didn't mean to! He got in my way! Please! You have to believe me!" Sam turned in time to see the mysterious man cry out as he was dragged out of the building in handcuffs.

Sam frowned and gazed hazily around the room. Who was that man talking about? Sam knew something had happened. He remembered the glint of the gun and being pushed before the gun went off- bullet meant for his boss. His lazy brain barely registered it when he spotted Josh Taylor speaking quietly with a police officer. It was only when his eyes fell upon the alarmingly large pool of blood a few feet from him that clearly wasn't his or Taylor's that his eyes flew open wide.

"Dean!" Sam struggled to his feet, ignoring the dizziness that washed over him. The paramedic called out his name, confused by his distress. He shrugged her off and staggered out of the front door.

He stumbled outside in time to see another paramedic readying a stretcher to be loaded into a waiting ambulance on the street. Sam's heart pounded as he rushed over to them.

"Dean," he cried out at the sight that met him.

Dean was deathly pale where he lay limply on the stretcher. The entire right side of his green tee shirt was soaked with blood which seemed to have originated from his shoulder.

One of the EMTs waved him into the ambulance before all four of them were closed into the cramped space. One of the medics was applying pressure to the mess at Dean's shoulder while the other kept track of his blood pressure and heart rate. Sam sat silently by Dean's head and gripped the hand of his good arm tightly.

About halfway to the county hospital, Dean gave a low moan and his pain-clouded eyes fluttered open to focus on Sam's face,

"Dean," Sam exclaimed. 'Dean, don't worry about anything, okay? You're going to be fine, you hear me?"

Dean stared long into Sam's eyes, offering him a weak smile before he grimaced and lost consciousness again.

A paramedic grunted as he applied more pressure to the wound. "Damnit, he's losing too much blood."

Sam bit his lip and his breath hitched when he looked back at Dean's ashen, blank face.

Dean _had_ to be okay; he just had to be.

oOo

Sam sat in the semi-crowded waiting room, staring at the fading tile floor. His hands dangled between his legs and his knees bounced nervously. Beside him, an elderly couple held hands and whispered prayers amongst themselves. He blocked them out as his mind wanders.

The past few hours had been hell. After arriving, Dean had been wheeled into surgery where they worked to stabilize him, remove the bullet, and repair the damage inflicted. During that time, Sam was left to worry and to think.

His mind kept finding its way back to the kiss. It had left Sam confused and uneasy. Dean had told Sam before that he still loved him, but Sam hadn't believed him. He realized how ridiculous that was now. Dean would always care about him and try to protect Sam, no matter what. The man had just thrown himself at a bullet aimed at Sam. If that didn't spell out love, what did?

Ice cold tendrils of guilt ate away at his heart. He shouldn't have doubted Dean. He should have trusted-

A light touch on his shoulder pulled Sam from his thoughts. He glanced up to find Dennis looming over him, outstretched hand offering him coffee. He took it wordlessly and Dennis plopped down in the cushioned chair beside him.

"How ya holding up?"

"M'fine," Sam mumbled before taking a huge gulp of the steaming brew, hoping it would quell the throbbing in his head and the burning in his eyes.

Dennis scoffed. "Yeah, right." Upon Sam's glare, he switched topics. "I just heard that the guy that shot Dean was someone Taylor defended a few years back. They didn't win the case, so he came looking for revenge after his time was up."

Drawing no reaction from Sam, he tried a new tactic. "I called Mikey's school and told them I'd be picking him up. I can take him to my house for a few hours, but I've got a flight to catch at six. Uh, unless you need me to cancel," he suggested. Receiving no reply, Dennis waved his hand in front of Sam's distance eyes. "Sam?"

Snapping back to attention, Sam replied, "Um, no. Thanks, but I'll pick him up." He picked at the edges of his coffee cup, needing something to do with his hands. "I wish they would hurry."

Dennis smiled softly. "Sam, Dean's going to be fine, and when he is, I just hope that you'll finally pull your head out of your rear end and tell him how you really feel."

Before Sam could respond, a tall, distinguished looking doctor approached him. Sam's eyes widened at the bright red flecks on dull green hospital scrubs. His grip on the arms of his chair turned white-knuckled.

"Family of Dean Winchester?" Sam nodded mutely and swallowed the fear when the flecks of blood drew closer.

The doctor face split into a reassuring smile that did nothing to calm Sam's racing heart.

"Dean pulled through beautifully. We were able to remove the bullet and there was surprisingly limited damage to surrounding tissue. We stitched him up and he's now being transferred to his room. You can go in and see him as soon as he's settled but the pain medication will have him out until tomorrow. And even then, he'll be weak from the blood loss."

Sam sagged against his chair, taking deep gulping breaths as he wrapped his mind around the fact that Dean would be fine. Dennis squeezed his hand and through the fog, Sam managed to thank the doctor.

Eventually, Sam was led to Dean's room. He swallowed against the lump lodged in his throat. Dean's face was pasty, his eyes were closed, deep smears under each socket. Thick eyelashes fanned across white cheeks. Sam kept his eyes riveted on Dean's face, refusing to acknowledge the heavy white bandages that swathed his shoulder and drew a chair to the side of the bed, gripping Dean's limp hand.

He tried not to think of the time when Dean's heart was failing and he was at death's door, but couldn't help it. That time, it hadn't been Sam's fault. It was just a hunting accident. However, this time, Sam couldn't help but feel responsible.

Dennis had told Sam to tell Dean the truth about his feelings and he would. The truth was that he still loved Dean. No, it was more than that. He was still _in_ love with Dean. And he was sick and tired of second guessing them both.

oOo,

When the call came that Dean was awake, Sam was just getting Mikey dressed for school. He had to concentrate hard on only driving the speed limit when he hurriedly dropped Mikey off and headed to the hospital. Skidding to a halt at Dean's open door, a relieved smile split his face as he looked inside.

Dean was propped up in his bed, contemplating a tray of hospital food. He still looked a little groggy and much too pale, but it was a huge improvement from yesterday. And he smiled openly when Sam entered.

"How you doing, Sammy?"

Shaking his head incredulously, he pulled up a chair. "How am _I_ doing? You're the one in a hospital bed, Dean. What does that tell you?"

"Me?" Dean waved his hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Never better."

"They must be pumping you with something special."

Dean actually let out a little giggle, obviously giddy from the medication. "Yeah, maybe."

They stared at each other for a moment, making sure the other was really okay.

"Gosh, Dean, why'd you do that?"

Dean shook his head and glanced out of the window where bright morning light flooded the room. "Don't ask me that, Sam." He turned back to face him. "You know I'd do it again."

Suddenly, Sam's chest swelled and his eyes filled. Before he knew he was going to do it, he leaned down and his lips lightly brushed against Dean's. Dean reacted immediately, as if he had had expected it, cupping the back of Sam's neck as he deepened the kiss. Sam sighed as he opened willingly for Dean, allowing his tongue to flick across his own.

When they finally came apart, Dean used his hand on the back of Sam's neck to hold the other man close. They panted together, Sam's forehead resting against Dean's.

"Tell me you're not going to regret this later."

Sam lifted his head to look Dean in the eye. "I love you, Dean. You don't know how scared I was yesterday."

"'Bout damn time you started appreciating me." The corners of Dean's eyes crinkled when he smiled. "It took you long enough."

"I know," Sam murmured before their lips met again.

**This chapter was really nerve-wrecking. Please let me know what you think!  
Reviews! Feedback! Yes, please.**


	9. Tension Relief

**I'm back with chapter nine! I can't even tell you guys how sorry I am for that huge and nasty delay! Real life tried to eat me! But anyway, here's chapter nine! I only sent it to one beta because I wanted to get it out as soon as possible so all mistakes are mine.  
I hope you guys enjoy!**

"Daddy, is De gonna live with us forever?" Mikey asked from his spot on the floor where he laid coloring in his favorite coloring book.

Sam looked up from his ironing in surprise. "I don't know about forever, but he's gonna be here until his arm is better, remember?"

Mikey frowned and colored in the blonde hair of a little boy. "Why did the bad man hurt De's arm? Did De call him a mean name?"

"No, De didn't do anything wrong. You know how when you're mad or sad about something I tell you to talk to me about it? Well, the bad man was mad, but he didn't talk to anyone. Instead he hurt De's arm, which was wrong. Does that make sense?"

Mikey looked up and scrunched his nose. "I think so, Daddy."

Mikey seemed to accept this and went on about coloring the little boy's jeans. He silently considered the various shades of blue spread out around him before selecting one, scrutinizing it in the morning sunlight. He would then shake his head in disappointment, replacing the reject Crayola back on the floor to try another until he was satisfied.

Sam watched him for a few moments, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud at his overly critical son. He knew for sure Dean would claim Mikey had inherited that quality from Sam.

Finished ironing his shirt for Monday, he carefully hung it in his closet.

"How about I make some pancakes?"

Mikey beamed at him and nodded eagerly.

"Okay, you finish coloring and try to stay quiet because De's still asleep in the other room."

"Okay Daddy." Mikey mumbled; already back to concentrating on his picture.

Sam tiptoed past the closed door to the spare bedroom where he could hear Dean's muffled snores and fought the urge to sneak a peek. In the kitchen Sam gathered all of his ingredients and supplies.

He was mixing the gooey batter when strong arms came around his waist and a cold nose was nuzzled against his neck, causing him to start.

"Damnit, Dean," he said with little heat.

"Dean's chuckled was muffled by Sam's skin. "Whatcha making, woman?"

Sam shimmied his shoulders, trying to buck Dean off. "Get off me."

But it was said with little conviction, causing Dean to press warm sloppy kisses on the spot where the back of Sam's neck met his shoulder.

"Dean," Sam whined, but his head dropped forward and he let out a shuddering breath when Dean began sucking. Spurred by Sam's sound effects, Dean smirked and turned him around. He snatched the mixing bowl from his hands and placed it on the counter. His arms went back around Sam's waist, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Capturing Sam's mouth, Dean wasted no time in delving in, tongue sweeping through. Sam moaned into Dean's mouth, his hands clutching desperately t the sides of Dean's shirt. Dean nudged him back against the counter, pressing his achingly hard arousal against Sam's. Dean growled at the contact and reached down to cup the taller man.

Sam gasped, his eyes snapping open. "Dean…wait."

Dean ignored him, one hand pushing up Sam's shirt.

Sam whimpered as Dean's cool hands skimmed over his torso, then growled in frustration. He grabbed Dean's wrist and his good shoulder, holding him back a little.

"Stop."

"What, damnit," Dean snapped.

Sam huffed and slid from between Dean and the counter. He turned back to his batter, fingers trembling around the spoon. "We can't do this in my kitchen."

Dean snorted and leaned back against the refrigerator. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it a minute ago."

"I know, but Mikey's right in the other room and he's waiting from his breakfast."

"Seriously Sam, that's the only reason you threw cold water on all that lovely stuff we were just getting into?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Right, whatever."

Spinning around, Sam fixed him with a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that ever since that day at the hospital- since I've been staying here- whenever I try to take things a step further than quick kisses, you shoot me down with some lame ass excuse instead of actually talking me and telling me what the problem is."

Sam gritted his teeth and flipped over his first bath. "There is no problem, Dean."

Dean threw up his hands in frustration and spun on his heel, slipping on his boots at the front door.

"I'll be back in a few hours."

Sam flinched when the door slammed shut.

.oOo

"Are you sure it's no trouble?" Sam buckled a drowsy Mikey into his booster seat and quietly closed the door.

Dennis grinned down at him. "Are you kidding? The kid'll be knocked out for at least another hour or two. And then we're going to see a movie."

Sam leaned back against the car door with sigh. "Thanks again."

"It's really no problem." He studied his friend for a moment. "You look completely strung out."

Sam averted his eyes, "I'm fine."

Dennis raised a dark brow in his knowing fashion. "That why you've been crying?"

"Dennis I really don't-"

"Really don't want to talk about it, yes I know." He interrupted, smiling. "This is me butting out." Tilting down, he kissed Sam's forehead.

Sam smiled up at him. "Thanks, Den for this."

Dennis opened the driver's side door. "Hope everything works out." He waggled his eyes brows suggestively and drove off.

.oOo.

Dean drove for a few hours outside of town just enjoying the shaded woods and the breeze whipping his short hair before finally turning around and heading back to Hopewell. He stopped at a gas station/auto body shop just outside of town to refill.

Once again cursing New Jersey for having suck a stupid law on pumping gas, he glared at the young man while he stuck the nozzle in the tank.

The guy, about Sam's age with white blonde hair and blue eyes, started up a conversation.

"Awesome car. Just passing through, are ya?"

"No," Dean responded shortly.

"Oh?" This seemed to perk the kid's interest. "Really? You new here?" He forged ahead, not waiting for Dean's response. "Well, welcome. I gotta tell you, this town's pretty great- hardly ever any problems. In fact, a few weeks ago was the first criminal problem we've had in a while," he said as he replaced the nozzle to the pump. "Some guy got shot downtown."

Dean swallowed. "That-that's a shame." He shoved some money in the guy's hand and hopped in the car.

Dean drove to Sam's apartment (their apartment?) trying to ignore the dull ache creeping into his shoulder. He used the key Sam copied for him to enter.

The only light in the living room was the bright blue blow of the television. Sam sat on the floor in front of it, a leg drawn up to his chest and one of his cheeks resting against his knee while he watched. He looked up when Dean entered.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," Dean grunted as he sat down next to him. Glancing back at the quiet hallway, Dean frowned. "Where's Mikey?"

"With Dennis."

"Oh okay."

They were silent for a while, pretending to watch while the current Bachelor wined and dined a group of giggling women.

"Man, I can't believe they actually put this crap on TV," Dean whined.

Sam sighed and aimed the remote, switching the sound to mute then turned his body to face Dean.

"I guess we should talk about this."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "About what? We can't really do anything about the show, even thought I think that one girl may need an exorcism right quick,"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not that, Dean. This morning."

"Oh right, that."

"I'm sorry."

"Really," Dean replied flatly. "That's nice, Sam, but it doesn't tell me what's wrong with you."

Sighing, Sam pulled his other leg up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I'm scared, Dean."

Dean immediately tensed. "Of what exactly?"

Seam took a deep breath, his eyes wandering around the room. "I don't know…of getting involved with you, I guess."

Dean's browns lowered. "I don't follow."

Sam swallowed hard. "I love you, Dean. I love you so much. And I know that Mikey already loves you, too. But that's what scares me. He's already so attacked to you. If something happened to you, he'd be devastated."

"You trying to get rid of me, Sammy?" Dean chucked nervously.

Sam shook his head. "No, but anything can happen on a hunt," he muttered miserably.

"Oh," Dean exhaled as everything fell into place. "So you've been holding back because of that _might_ happen _if_ I go on a hunt?"

Sam seemed to curl even tighter into himself. "It isn't a matter of if, Dean- it's when."

Dean was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, he scooted over so that they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

Grabbing Sam's hand, he laced their fingers together. "Look, Sam. I don't know what might happen, I just…I'm here now, Sammy." Hand moving up to cup Sam's cheek, he made sure the clouded hazel orbs were connecting with his green ones. "And I would never- ever do anything to hurt you or Mikey."

Sam's eyes dropped. "I know not intentionally."

Dean let out a frustrated growl and leaned forward, capturing Sam's moth. Sam responded almost immediately, tensing and trying to pull away. Dean tightened his hold around his waist.

"No Sam. Just relax. Just let it happen; let me do this." He continued his attack on Sam's rosy lips, tongues clashing. His hands slid up Sam's back, eliciting tiny shivers.

Dean let their mouths slip apart, moving down to suck and pick at the exposed collarbone. Sam bit his lip, his fingernails digging into Sean's shoulders. Groaning, he pulled Dean back up so their lips were pressed together again.

Dean pulled back, panting. He laughed when Sam blinked at him owlishly, pupils blown.

"Okay Sammy," Dean panted. "To the bedroom."

Sam bounced back on the bed, Dean falling on top of him.

"Too many clothes," Dean mumbled.

Somehow he managed to rid them both of their clothes without his lips ever leaving Sam's body.

Sam spent the next few hours becoming reacquainted with the magic of Dean's mouth and hands. By the time Dean slowly eased into him, he was completely worn out.

His back arched up off the bed when Dean got the angle right.

"Easy, baby," Dean soothed. "Just relax."

Sam's hips bucked up to meet each of Dean's thrusts. Neither were capable of words, reduced to communication through grunts, groans, and moans until Dean's entire body tensed and he cried Sam's name, completely draining himself in the other man. Dean's release pushed Sam over the edge into his own and he twined his legs around Dean's waist and whimpered desperately.

Dean collapsed on top of him, both breathing hard, chests heaving in unison. Sam buried his face in Dean's neck.

"Wow," Dean marveled.

Sam began to struggle beneath him. "Dean," he whispered breathily.

"Sam," Dean said sternly. "Stop fighting me. We both wanted it."

"I can't…breathe." He shoved weakly at Dean's chest.

Dean chuckled and rolled off. "Oh sorry." He pulled Sam against his chest.

Sam frowned up at him.

"What?"

"Are we cuddling now?" Sam asked, grinning.

"Shut up, Sam."

Snuggling closer into Dean's side, his eyes began to drift shut. The room was silent save for Sam's slow breathing.

Dean drew feather light squiggly lines on Sam's arms.

"You gonna stop worrying now?" He whispered, dropping a kiss to the still sweat damp curls.

Sam sighed in his slumber.

**Please review and tell me what you think!**


	10. Taking Care

**A/N: I really don't have a good excuse as to why it took me over a .year. to update this story. I know I was suffering from some major writer's block and RL. But, here it is, hope you enjoy.**

"You ready?"

Sam swallowed and gave a quick, jerking nod. Dean grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.

"We're doing the right thing, you know."

Sam nodded, his gaze resting in his lap. "I know. I just…this is all my fault; I don't want him to hate me."

Giving his hand a squeeze, Dean scooted closer. "He's not gonna hate you, Sam. I didn't."

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to do this. "Okay, I'm ready."

Dean leaned in and kissed him quickly before leading the way into Mikey's room. They found the boy stretched out on his stomach on the thick blue carpet, completely engrossed in one of his books that were mostly pictures and short sentences and large fonts. He looked up when they entered.

"Hi."

"Hi, baby," Sam greeted as he joined him on the floor. Dean followed suit. "Can De and I talk to you for a bit?"

Mikey sighed and gave his book a mournful glance before closing it and nodding.

"Remember when you asked me why you didn't have another daddy?" Sam began and waited for Mikey's nod. "Well, you do have another daddy. De is your other daddy."

There was complete silence in the room while Sam chewed his bottom lip. Dean held his breath and Mikey regarded them quietly.

His eyes settled on Dean. "Where was you before?"

"Were," Sam instinctively corrected. "Where _were_ you?"

Mikey dutifully repeated his question, still staring at Dean, waiting.

Dean carefully considered the question. He couldn't just come out and tell his son that he simply hadn't been aware of his existence. Completely at a loss, he looked to Sam who was already speaking.

"De was working. He had a very important job to do before he could be with us." This wasn't entirely untrue.

Mikey was silent, digesting this new information. He sat back on his heels, his tiny hands resting on his thighs.

"Are you two may-weed?"

Dean smiled. "No, we are not ma_rried_."

Nodding in understanding, Mikey continued to ponder the situation. "Can you still draw and read with me?"

"Sure, of course," Dean replied.

"Can we still play A-Dee-Dee in the car?" Mikey frowned up at Dean as though this were a huge concern of his.

Dean smiled and avoided eye contact with Sam. "We can definitely still listen to ACDC. Mikey, nothing's going to change."

Mikey shrugged. "Okay."

"So you're okay? Happy? You know who your daddy is?" Sam asked, gently running his fingers through Mikey's hair.

The boy grinned and stood to hug his father. "I love you."

Sam smiled softly. "I love you, too, baby."

Mikey moved over to Dean and wrapped his small arms around his neck. "I love you."

Dean's breath caught and for a second, he couldn't reply. "And I love you, kiddo."

Pulling back, Mikey gave him an odd look. "Can I call you Daddy?"

Smiling against the lump in his throat, Dean hooked his thumb in Sam's direction. "Isn't that what you call that guy?"

Mikey thought this over for a few moments before addressing Sam. "You said I came from your tummy so you can be the mommy."

Sam looked mildly insulted and Dean smirked at him. "You can't argue with the kid's logic."

Mikey crawled from Dean's lap, his world bright and mind made up. "Can I read my book now?"

"Just for a little bit longer; it's almost bedtime." Sam stood and offered Dean his hand.

Dean waited until they were in their room to say, "He totally shut us down for a book. He must get his lust for knowledge from his _Mommy."_

Sam glared at him. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, definitely finding the humor here."

Sam huffed and went in his drawer for pajama pants.

"Aw come on, baby, don't be like that." Dean sidled up behind Sam and wrapped his arms around him. "You're happy everything went well, aren't you?"

Sighing, Sam turned to face him. "Yeah, I am," he nodded with a small smile. "I'm just a little tired."

"Well, then stop sulking and kiss me."

Dean didn't wait for Sam to comply, but rather leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

.oOo.

Royner and Sons Auto Shop was uncharacteristically busy for a Monday evening. And Dean's mind wandered as he worked. It had been a week since they had talked to Mikey about his paternity and Mikey was taking the news in the carefree way that most four year olds would have. He didn't seem much fazed by his father's sudden appearance and he did not seem to need any more explanation on what had kept Dean away for the four short years of his life.

Mikey was, however, adamant about switching Sam's name. Ever since that night, Dean had become Daddy and Sam was Mommy. Sam was pretty uncomfortable with it at first but Mikey stuck with it and Sam finally stopped clenching his jaw every time Mikey called out to him.

Thinking of Sam caused Dean's eyebrows to knit together with worry. He was working himself too hard. His boss, Taylor, had taken on an extremely important and challenging case and Sam's workload had nearly doubled. He was hardly ever at home, often opting to put in hours of overtime and catch rushed meals at his desk, although Dean was sure he was skipping more of them than he was eating. He and Sam only crossed paths once or twice a day and one of those was when Sam would stumble in and collapse on the living room sofa, too exhausted to drag himself to bed.

"Winchester" Lou, one of the main mechanics at the shop, called Dean from is thoughts.

"Yeah?" He answered, sliding from beneath his current project.

"Phone for you."

This news surprised Dean and he frowned as he wiped his greasy hands on the oily rag in the pocket of his overall as he made his way over to the office. Why would anyone call the shop for him? And then it occurred to Dean that he had left his phone tucked in his locker that day. But who could be calling him? Did it have something to do with Mikey? Was he okay?

By the time Dean picked up the phone, his heart was pounding. "'Lo?"

"Dean?" He didn't recognize the voice. "This is Dennis."

Dean frowned. "Uh, hi…"

"Look, I know you're busy but I think you should come home."

"What?" he questioned, his frown deepening. Now that Dean was listening more closely, he could just barely hear Mikey crying in the background. "What's going on?"

"When I dropped Mikey off, Sam wasn't looking so good so I stayed and chatted with him for a few minutes. And it's a good thing I did because he sort of fainted."

"What?!" Dean exclaimed.

"He was only out for a minute or two but it really scared Mikey and he hasn't calmed down yet. And Sam didn't want to worry you but I thought you should know."

"Thanks, I'm on my way."

After hanging up, Dean quickly informed Lou of his family emergency and gathered his things.

Upon arriving at the apartment, Dean found Sam and Dennis in the living room and Mikey appeared to be in bed. Dennis quickly left him alone.

Dean took in Sam's pale face and the dark circles under his eyes and felt the barely-controlled fear rise in him again.

"What happened, Sam?"

Sam gave a nervous laugh. "Well, hello to you, too. My day was fine, thanks for asking."

"Sam."

Sam sighed. "I think you're aware of the fact that I fainted."

"Yes," Dean huffed. "But why?"

Shrugging, Sam avoided meeting Dean's gaze. "I don't know, I was tired, I guess. And I hadn't eaten yet today."

"Yeah, sure. Do you even remember the last time you've eaten? Or has a decent night's rest?"

Dean's concern for Sam's health and his frustration with Sam's lack of concern were clashing and combating inside of him. He wanted to take Sam into his arms and throttle him at the same time.

"I've been working, Dean," Sam replied, becoming defensive.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, on a roll. "You've been working, and neglecting you health and your family. You see me maybe twice a day and you probably see Mikey even less than that. And now you're fainting all over the damn place, scaring the kid half to death."

Sam sighed and wearily rubbed at what appeared to be an ache in his forehead.

"Okay," he snapped." I'm sorry I fainted. God, what do you want from me?

Dean fought to control himself to keep from getting into Sam's face and raising his voice, as he was prone to do when angry and worried.

"I want you to take better care of yourself. Stop working overtime. And, damnit, stop acting like that damn job is more important to you than your own family."

Sam shot up from his seat on the sofa, his fists clenched at his sides. "How can you even say that to me? You know I always put Mikey first. I'm working so hard now _for_ him!"

Dean was about to retort when there came a knock at the front door. They both started; it was a little late in the evening for visitors.

Pinning Sam with a look that left little room for argument, Dean said, "This isn't over, Sam."

"Who is it?" He called and crept closer to the door when there came no response. After peeking through the peephole, Dean turned back to Sam with an expression of shock painted across his face.

"It's Dad."

And damn if it didn't seem as though Sam was going to faint for the second time that night.

**Please leave feedback. I know I didn't spend much time on the Big Reveal. But I honestly don't imagine Mikey making a huge deal about it. He's a pretty laid back sort of kid, I think.**


	11. Family Business Part 1

**Hello everyone! I know I've been MIA for way too long. But school and RL have been a bit busy! Thank you to everyone that continues to read and review this story. It really means a lot to me. This is part 1 of Chapter 11. It's actually been written for awhile but I didn't to post just one part of a chapter. But I figured why keep you guys waiting if it's already written? Anyway, please give me feedback so I know what you guys think and I will really try not to take forever for part 2. Love yall!**

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Sam heard Dean ask as John embraced him and then Sam.

John leaned back to view Sam, a heavy hand on his shoulder. "How've you been, Sammy?"

Sam found himself smiling. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he was happy to see his father. It had been so long and after hearing Dean's stories of how accepting and supportive he had been, he couldn't help but feel a new wave of respect for the man.

He shrugged sheepishly. "I've been good, Dad."

John returned the smile and turned to his eldest, who was watching the exchange with a huge grin. "And you, son?"

Dean nodded. "Awesome, as usual."

Sam ushered them both into the kitchen and put on some coffee while Dean and John sat at the table.

"Nice place ya got here, Sammy," John said as he glanced around the kitchen.

"Oh, you know Sammy's a regular Martha Stewart," Dean cracked. "So what was that thing in Arkansas you were after?"

Sam watched his father and brother with a smile on his face. Dean listened intently with bright eyes and a slight frown of concentration as John told him about the small pack of vampires he and another hunter had taken down.

As he waited for the coffee, Sam couldn't help but wonder at the father's sudden visit. It wasn't like him to not be hard at work, searching relentlessly for the next nasty thing to kill. Sam wondered if he was sick. But upon further inspection, Sam couldn't find any signs of illness. His father looked normal as he spoke animatedly to Dean about killing the vamps. And then Sam's thoughts traveled to he and Dean's little son sleeping just down the hall. What would their father think when he found out about his grandson?

Sam joined them at the table with the three steaming mugs of coffee just as the topic shifted.

"So," Dean quickly sobered, regarding his sons silently. "Werewolves," he finally answered.

Dean frowned and Sam couldn't help his small gasp. "Here?"

Swallowing his sip of coffee, John shook his head. "No, Pennsylvania."

Sam cocked his head, confused. If there were no werewolves in Pennsylvania then what was he doing there? But Sam didn't have long to ponder.

"I need your help," John told them.

Sam was trying to think of the best way to let his father down and explain everything to him when he glanced in Dean's direction and his heart sank. His brother was leaning forward, elbows braced on the table, his eyes alight with a new fire.

"How many?" Dean asked, no doubt already calculating every move necessary in order to get rid of them all. Sam swallowed down his hurt.

John shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. Still waiting to hear by from my contact for details. It's just, werewolf isn't really something a person handles on their own, no matter how many." John downed the rest of his coffee. "I've got a room just in town. I'll get back to you boys with more information."

Dean tried to insist on their father staying with them but John refused. Truth be told, they really didn't have the room. And while John had been completely accepting of this sons' relationship, that didn't mean he wanted to be under the same roof with them sleeping in the same bed.

Sam watched the exchange in somewhat of a daze. Confusion clouded his thoughts. Dean had seemed so ready to jump right back into the hunt when their father had asked for their help. When he and John talked about hunting, Dean sat up a bit taller and his eyes sparkled with something Sam found difficult to describe. Had Dean actually been gearing up to follow their father to Pennsylvania to hunt who-knew-how-many werewolves? Or was he simply filled with adrenaline for the hunt ahead of their father?

Once their father had left, Dean turned to Sam with a pleased grin splitting his face. Sam knew they needed to talk about this and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Dean?" Sam followed Dean into the kitchen to clean up their coffee mugs. "What are we going to tell Dad?" He rinsed a mug and gave it to Dean.

Swiftly drying, Dean frowned at him. "What do you mean, Sammy?"

"Well, when are we going to tell Dad that he's going to have to find someone else to help him?"

Dean looked confused. "Why would we do that?"

Sam worked to fight down the irritation struggling to bubble up to the surface.

"Because we have a son to take care of."

Looking as though that hadn't previously occurred to him, Dean was silent for a moment. Sam told himself to be understanding; Dean hadn't been a parent as long as he had.

"Well," Dean began, doing some quick calculations, "The hunt shouldn't take very long."

Shaking his head in disbelief, "So, we're supposed to bring a four year old with us?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Mikey can stay with Dennis."

Sam slammed down the coffee pot and eyed Dean incredulously. "I can't believe you, Dean. I'm not leaving out son just to go chasing after some damn werewolves and I can't believe you would."

"Oh please, Sam," Dean exclaimed in exasperation. "It's one hunt for a few days. It's not a big deal; we've done this a thousand times. And besides, it's for Dad."

"Yeah, sure. It's not a big deal unless one or both of us doesn't make it back! Don't you remember this is why I left in the first place!" Sam was too upset to notice how much his voice had risen.

It was Dean's turn to slam down a mug as he got up in Sam's space. "Don't even give me that shit, Sam! You weren't thinking about Mikey when you left; you were thinking about yourself. And that's what the fuck you're doing right now. How would feel if we didn't help and Dad got hurt on this hunt-or worse? But I'm sure you wouldn't care because all you ever think about is yourself and that fucking job of yours, right?"

"Daddy?" They both turned at the gasp from the kitchen doorway just as Mikey burst into sobs.

Sam immediately swept his trembling son into his arms, tears tumbling down his own cheeks.

"Shh, Mikey baby, it's okay." Sam ran his hand down Mikey's back. "I'm sorry we were yelling. It's okay."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face as Sam carried their still whimpering son back to bed.

Sam sat with Mikey, stroking his hair until he was completely calm.

"Mommy," Mikey glanced up at him. "Why were you and Daddy yelling?"

"We were having a disagreement. We shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry."

Mikey frowned. "Daddy said bad words."

"I know, sweetie. It's late, try to sleep."

It was nearly midnight when Mikey finally fell back into a peaceful sleep. Sam was so exhausted-physically and emotionally- that all he did was climb into bed. Still stinging from Dean's burning words, Sam didn't care to wonder if Dean would join him. He soon fell into a restless sleep.


	12. Family Business Part 2

**Whoa! Finally right? It took quite a few friendly reminders and some not-so-friendly threats to get this up. Sorry people. I've been so darn caught up in Criminal Minds that I completely neglected this story. I'm really going to try to finish this this summer. Anyway, enjoy.**

What Sam woke up to was Mikey curled up on Dean's side of the bed, tightly clutching his pillow. The sight brought tears to his eyes, which turned to tears of frustration when he realized he had overslept. He would have to call both he and Mikey in sick for the day. Blinking back the blur in his eyes, Sam gave Mikey's shoulder a light shake.

"Mikey."

The boy's hazel eyes opened slowly. Sam could immediately see the sadness in them. "Mommy, where's Daddy?"

Sam felt his eyes refill, but quickly blinked back his tears. "He had to go to work early." Sam had no idea whether he was lying to his son or not. But he couldn't worry about Dean; he had to make sure Mikey would be okay. It would hurt more than anything if Dean decided to walk away from them to rejoin the hunt. Because contrary to what Dean believed, Sam knew that once he started again there would always be another hunt. It was the reason Sam had chosen to leave four years ago instead of forcing him to settle down and raise a baby. Dean seemed to need to hunt in a way that Sam could never understand.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Sam coaxed Mikey out of bed with the promise of apple cinnamon waffles and a trip to the park. While Mikey dressed, Sam called Mikey's school and his job before starting breakfast. It wasn't until Mikey was eating that Sam thought to call his father.

"Hello," came the gruff response.

"Dad."

"Sammy, what's up?"

Sam took a deep breath. "This may sound a little crazy, but can you meet me at the park down the street from my apartment?"

As he and Mikey walked to the park, Sam couldn't help but wonder what he could have been thinking. It was one thing for their father to accept him and Dean's relationship but another to learn that they had a child together. But Sam felt John had the right to know why he refused to work the hunt. Sam could see John's pickup truck as they approached and the question in the older man's eyes as he climbed out.

"Sammy?" He questioned once they were within earshot.

Sam smiled down at his son. "Mikey, this is your grandfather." He looked up at his father. "Dad, this is Michael Dean Winchester."

John blinked at his youngest son for a moment before kneeling down to Mikey's level. "Hi Michael. How old are you?"

"Four," Mikey answered and held up four fingers just in case John needed the extra help. "You can call me Mikey." He gave his grandfather that same toothy grin that everyone who knew him loved.

John returned the smile and Sam couldn't help but notice the resemblance. "Thank you, Mikey. Why don't you go play on the swings for a little bit while me and your Daddy talk?"

When Mikey's eyes lit up and he glanced around expectantly, Sam felt his chest tighten.

"Daddy's not here," Mikey mumbled with evident disappointment.

John looked up at Sam quizzically.

"He calls me Mommy. Dean is Daddy," Sam answered, still a little embarrassed. "It's okay, Mikey. Go on and play."

Huh," John huffed out once the little boy ran off in the direction of the swings. "It all makes a little more sense now. I never believed you would leave Dean for no good reason."

Sam nodded and the two sat down at a picnic table which allowed them to easily see Mikey as he ran around the playground.

I didn't want to make Dean choose between hunting and a family. I knew what hunting meant to him- what it still means to him," he added.

John raised his eyebrows. "You think it's more important than his family?"

"At the time, yes," Sam sighed. "Dad, look, I'm sorry but I'm not going on this hunt. I have Mikey to think of and refuse to raise him that way. No offense."

Chuckling, John shook his head. "None taken. " He smiled at his son. "Believe it or not, I understand, Sammy."

"You do?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yes. I know you didn't agree with my parenting but at the time I was doing the best I knew how." His eyes grew distant. "But I do sometimes wish I could go back and do things differently."

"Dad," Sam trailed off, not sure what to say.

"So, believe me when I say that I understand you decision, Sammy. And that I've never been more proud of you."

"You-you haven't?" Sam couldn't help but feel like a kid again basking in his father's praise. "Dean wants to help you; we argued about it last night. He doesn't understand why I won't just drop Mikey off at a friend's house and pick up a shotgun like old times. He knows how I feel about exposing Mikey to hunting, but really it's more than that."

John looked at him expectantly.

"I think I might be pregnant."

"Does Dean know?"

Sam shook his head. "No, and I don't want to tell him. I don't want him to feel trapped. He needs to make this decision on his own."

John promptly smacked Sam in the back of his head.

"Ow Dad! What the hell?" Sam exclaimed.

John smiled good-naturedly. "Sorry, Sammy but you deserved that. I can't believe you're about to repeat history."

"What?"

"When you found out you were pregnant with Mikey you left without giving Dean an option. And now you're about to do the same thing all over again. You need to tell him about the baby, Sam. Let him make the decision after that."

Sam blinked at his father. "I-I never thought of it that way."

"Well, that's why you have an old man."

The three Winchesters had lunch together and Mikey managed to charm his way into his grandfather's heart. The four year old had John Winchester smiling more than Sam had ever seen. But he found it difficult to join in the happiness, his mind often drifting to his confession. He had begun to recognize some of the symptoms almost two weeks prior and had immediately taken a pregnancy test. He almost hyperventilated when the result was positive. Rather than have a doctor confirm his condition and tell Dean, he had thrown himself into work and allowed it to distract him. However, avoidance was no longer an option.

Around the time Dean was due home from the auto shop, John offered to take Mikey out for a while and gave Sam a pointed look, obviously expecting him to talk with Dean. By the time Dean returned to the apartment, Sam had worked himself into such a nervous wreck that he felt nauseous.

Dean set down his keys without so much as a glance in Sam's direction.

"Dean, we need to talk," Sam said, trying to find his nerve.

Running a weary hand over his face, Dean sighed. "There's really nothing to talk about, Sam. I'm going even though you don't want me. What else is there to talk about?"

"I'm pregnant." He hadn't wanted to blurt it out that way but Dean's attitude was making him nervous.

Dean started at the news. "You wanna run that by me again?"

Sam swallowed thickly. "I took a test almost two weeks ago. I just haven't been to a doctor yet."

"And you didn't think to tell me before now?" Sam could practically see the angry tension rolling off his brother's shoulders in waves.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you." Sam took a moment to collect his thoughts. "I love you, Dean. And I love the fact that the three of us have been able to form a family these past few months despite my mistakes in the past. And I almost made the same mistake again- I almost doubted your ability to choose between hunting and your family. After Dad pointed it out to me, I knew I had to tell you about the baby."

Dean let out a huge breath as he sank down onto the sofa. Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he chuckled softly. "You think that I need to hunt because it's a part of me or something. The truth is that sometimes I think it's the only thing I know how to do. I've done it almost all my life." He grabbed Sam's hand. "But I love you too, Sammy. And I refuse to miss a single minute of this baby's life."

Sam smiled and swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. He brought his forehead down to Dean's. "You're crazy if you think hunting is all you can do; you're an amazing father."

Shaking his head and trying to hide the fact that he was getting choked up, Dean rolled his eyes. "God, you trying to turn me into a girl too, Sammy?"

Rather than answer, Sam captured his lips in a searing kiss.


	13. The Talk

**So I realized it's been 3 years since I started this. That's pretty sad, but THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who's stayed with me and anyone who has read and reviewed. This is NOT the last chapter but I wanted to get that out there.  
**"Warning":** Dean talks _a lot_ in this chapter!**

**Chapter 13  
**

"Dean, where are we _going_?" Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. It was Friday evening and after working all day, he was tired, achy, and uncomfortable in his work clothes.

Dean rolled his eyes. For the thousandth time, I'm not telling you. It's a surprise, Sammy."

Sighing tiredly, Sam rested his head back. "I hate surprises."

"Trust me, Sammy," Dean reassured as he squeezed Sam's thigh. "You'll love this one."

Sam hummed noncommittally and closed his eyes. When he felt the car come to a stop, Sam opened his eyes and frowned at his surroundings. They were in the parking lot of a small, quaint restaurant.

"What are we doing here?"

Dean shook his head mournfully. "I always tried to tell Dad that I got all the brains in the family. I figured we'd eat, Sammy."

"But-but," Sam stammered.

Rolling his eyes, Dean climbed out and went around to meet Sam on his side.

"Dean, I don't understand," Sam admitted knowing he sounded stupid but this was so un-Dean-like that he was confused.

Dean looped an arm around Sam's waist. "Is it so hard to believe that I wanted to take my darling lover, mother of my children, out for a nice dinner?"

Sam stopped short, grabbing Dean's arm to bring them face-to-face, frowning, Sam stared intensely into his brother's eyes, assessing them. For a moment, Dean stared back, thoroughly perplexed before huffing exasperated breath ad looking the slightest bit embarrassed.

"I'm not a shape-shifter, Sam. Seriously, I wanted to do this because it's important to me." He smiled when Sam melted against him. "Now, come on, our reservations are for eight, sharp."

Once situated in their seat by the large window, they made small talk for a little while. Finally, Sam smiled softly at Dean and grabbed his hand. "Thank you, Dean. This is really nice."

Dean grinned back, loving the way the low lights made Sam's smile look so boyish and carefree.

He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm glad you like it, but I also brought you here because I have some things we need to discuss."

Instantly nervous, Sam sat up straight and bit his lip. "About what?"

Dean tightened his hold on Sam's hand. "Two things, actually. First, old man Royner at the shop is finally retiring after sixty years, but none of his sons have ever been interested in cars. So Royner wanted to leave it to us three mechanics but the youngest one is moving to California and Lou said he'd rather just fix cars. So, as of yesterday, I sort of own an auto shop?"

Sam blinked at him a few times. "Wait, what?"

"Look, I know I should have talked to you a while back when it was first mentioned, but I wanted it so bad and I just didn't want to say anything until I was sure."

Sam shook his head. "I'm not angry; I'm in shock. I mean, you _own_ a business." He squeezed Dean's hand. "I'm proud of you, Dean."

Dean couldn't stop his cheeks from warming. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to Sam's lips. "Thanks, baby."

"So what was the other thing you wanted to talk about?"

Dean nodded. "Right, I was thinking that now that our family is expanding, maybe it's time to start looking into buying a house."

Sam sighed. "That's a nice thought, but we don't have that kind of money."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Dean huffed indignantly. "I have a lot of cash saved up."

Sam looked thoughtful as he chewed on a forkful of stuffed chicken breast. I just don't know, Dean. That's an awful lot of responsibility."

Dean silently gathered his thoughts for a few short moments before speaking. "I want you to listen to me carefully, Sammy." He waited until Sam replaced his fork and was paying full attention. "I know that even though we've built a family together and have promised to fight whatever battles to make it work, you still doubt me." He held up his hand when Sam went to protest. "Maybe it's just in the back of your head and you don't even realize it. But I do and I'm telling you right here and right now that I love you. I never thought I'd say it but I want that damn apple pie life with you and our kids. I want you forever- more than the hunt, more than anything. And, goddamnit, I wish you hadn't turned me into such a fucking girl."

Sam smiled through the tears blurring his vision. "I love you, Dean."

Dean shook his head, feigning disgust. "What part of no chick flick moments don't you understand?"

oOo

To say that Mikey had been excited to hear that he was going to be an older brother would have been a huge understatement. He constantly talked to Sam's small bump and asked how "Sister" was doing. Mikey was adamant about the fact that he was getting a little sister despite the fact that they wouldn't allow the doctor to tell them.

It was obvious that they boy already loved his unborn sibling, which was why it was such a shock when he came home from school one day and dropped a major bombshell.

Sam let them into the apartment and gave Mikey his afterschool snack. He then asked him to play quietly in his room while he took a nap. Sam knew that Dean would be home in less than an hour. He was just falling asleep when he felt the bed bounce. He cracked open one lid to see Mikey peering down at him, a book clutched in his small hand.

"Read, Mommy?"

Groaning tiredly, Sam sat up on his elbow. "Not right now, sweetheart. Maybe you and Daddy can read when he gets home."

"But why?" Mikey whined in a way that was so unusual for him.

"Because Mommy's tired. Me and Sister need a nap. So you want to lay with us?"

"No!" Mikey exclaimed and pounded his fist on the mattress in frustration.

Startled, Sam sat up straight. "Mikey, what's wrong?"

Mikey crossed his arms stubbornly, his golden brows puckered in anger. "You won't read!"

Sam was baffled. Mikey had never acted this way before- even during his Terrible Twos which had been pretty terrible. He wasn't sure how to handle it, but figured that explaining things would help as it had always done in the past.

"Mikey, I understand that you want me to read, but I will not right now. I'm going to take a nap. I told you that Mommy and Sister-"

"I don't care about Sister!" Mikey exploded, interrupting Sam. "I don't care! I hope she never comes!"

Sam gasped horrified by his son's hateful words. He grabbed the little arm before he knew was going to. "Why would say that? Why? Don't _ever_ say that?"

Mikey wasn't speaking, simply frowning and staring ahead as if his mother wasn't near shrieking right beside him.

"Go to your room, Michael! Go right now!"

It wasn't until the small blonde had stomped out of the room that Sam noticed how badly his hands were shaking. He had never been so angry with his son before and it scared him. But more distressing than Sam's reaction were Mikey's words. Sam couldn't even comprehend why the boy would have said such a thing about the sibling he had adored just the day before. He didn't understand it but it sure did hurt if the shocked sobs fighting their way from his chest were any indication.

oOo

When Dean came home he was surprised to find the apartment so quiet. He figured that Sam was taking a nap, his pregnancy making it difficult for him to get through the day without one. What he found was a Sam-shaped ball sitting curled on their bed with his head burrowed in his drawn up knees. It was obvious from the trembling in his hunched shoulders that he was crying.

"Sammy?" He inquired while approaching the bed.

Sam's head rose and Dean gasped. The tear-streaked face was enough but it was Sam's eyes that upset Dean the most. The hurt behind them told Dean that this was way more than just hormones.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean gathered the younger man into his arms.

Sam eventually calmed down enough to tell Dean the whole story. Afterwards, Dean was silent for a while, gently stroking Sam's hair in a way that would have him asleep in less than five minutes.

"You know he didn't mean it, right?" Dean had to make sure.

Sam nodded. "I know that but it still hurt. And I don't understand it." He pressed his nose into the side of Dean's neck.

"I do," Dean stated simply.

Raising his head, Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"When Mom and Dad first told me you were coming, I went through a phase where I didn't want you," He immediately continued once he realized how hurtful his statement was. "It wasn't you; I was just worried that they wouldn't love me the same anymore. But that's when Dad sat me down and explained how they could love us both and that it would be my job to protect you." Dean shrugged. "After that I loved you. Even though you were fat and red. But now, I guess it's time for me to have the same talk with our son."

Sam smiled even though his eyes were rapidly filling. Dean groaned.

"Please, Sammy, stop crying; you're killing me."

Laughing, Sam wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry, I love you."

Dean kissed the top of the head. "I love you, too. Now take your nap."

He found Mikey in the exact same position only his tears had long since dried. He glanced up when he heard the door open.

"Hi, son." Dean couldn't help but momentarily start at how much he sounded like his father.

"Hi," came Mikey's sullen reply.

Dean sat down. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Mikey hung his head in shame. "I was mean to Mommy and Sister. Mommy cried."

Nodding in agreement, "His feelings were hurt."

"I didn't mean it! I love Mommy. I love Sister."

He laid a hand on the small shoulder. "I know you do, buddy. So, why'd you say something mean?"

"Rich said that you and Mommy won't love me anymore after Sister comes. She gets all the 'tentions."

"Rich is wrong. C'mere," Dean gestured for Mikey to climb into his lap. "Mommy and Daddy have enough love to give you and Sister. Sister is going to be small when she comes and she will need a lot of attention. But I promise we will always love you because you are our first baby."

Mikey buried his face into Dean's strong chest, his little hands clutching the warn fabric of his shirt. "Okay, Daddy."

The absolute trust that this small boy placed in him completely floored Dean. And he found himself falling in love with his son all over again.

"And you know what else?"

Mikey raised his head, his huge eyes questioning.

"As an older brother, you have to help protect Sister and take care of her. It's a very important job but Mommy and Daddy only trust you with it. Can you do it?"

Mikey sat up a little straighter. "Yes."

Dean smiled. "Good."

oOo

Dean and Mikey decided to make their specialty for dinner so that Sam could sleep longer. As all three of them sat down to their spaghetti dinner, Mikey chose that time to apologize to Sam and Sister, promising to always love and protect her. It sent Sam straight into another tearful smile and they spent the next five minutes trying to explain that Mommy was happy and not sad.

At the end of the night, Sam curled himself into Dean's side, near purring at his comfortable heat. Dean slid his hand across Sam's round little belly. "You three exhaust me." Fondness stole the sting from the comment.

Sam smacked Dean's chest playfully. "You love us; we're cute."

The older man grumbled good-naturedly before dropping a quick kiss to Sam's upturned lips. Sam quickly upped the heat by licking Dean's lush bottom lip, begging entrance. Once it was granted he wasted no time in running his tongue over every scorching, wet surface. Groaning, Dean leaved up until he was leaning over Sam's supine body as they kissed, one hand still resting on his stomach, the other tangled in Sam's wavy locks. Dean shuddered when Sam's swollen red lips drew his earlobe into that moist heat. His hand slid down to grip Sam's bony hip bone. He turned his head to recapture Sam's mouth and lost himself in the languid slide of their tongues. But just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. And Sam kissed the tip of his nose before flopping on his side and fit his back against Dean's chest.

"Goodnight," he said pleasantly as if they hadn't just been making out.

Dean blinked down at him, stunned. "Goodnight? That was one hell of a goodnight kiss."

Sam glanced over his shoulder. "You said you were exhausted, didn't you? He turned back but not before Dean saw the mischievous glint in his eye.

Dean settled down and wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, his arousal still very obvious. "You're a fucking tease," he whispered, softly nipping at the back of his neck. "And I _will_ get you back for this."

Sam just grinned and snuggled deeper into the strong arms.


End file.
